


Deep in the Hole

by takethethirdoption



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:04:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 24,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethethirdoption/pseuds/takethethirdoption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now. </p><p>Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.</p><p>Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tech Geek - That's You

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is going to be my next little story. I don't know where it's going yet, whether there will be a romance subplot or what, but I love Tom Hardy's Bane a lot and there needs to be a different variation of female in the Nolanverse with Batman. You have pretty much, what, two seductresses with questionable motives in DKR? Then Rachel got axed off and I liked Maggie Gyllenhaal's character. Oh well. 
> 
> I'm also using my character to point out some of the flaws in the movie, logic-wise. So I think that will be fun. This is coming from someone who actually LIKED that trilogy all the way through.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy.

You used to be able to measure time much more linearly before you met Bane. Before everything started. There was Before Bane and After Bane. It didn’t always used to be like that.

There were many milestones in your life: your birth, first day of school, college graduation, thirtieth birthday, engagement, called off engagement, first “real” job, first successful hack. Those were normal things. Okay, maybe not so much that last one. It was that last milestone that led you to your current lifestyle. 

Before we get into you meeting one of the world’s most notorious terrorists and best hand-to-hand fighters, let’s discuss your field. Computers. Anything relating to them, you were a prodigy. A true expert before you turned thirty. Or even twenty. Your first successful hack came when you were fifteen. Your high school’s website wasn’t too difficult to work around, so you found a hole in the security system and changed the mascot of Gotham High into a giant douche. A week later it was a turd sandwich. 

Suffice to say you grew to be a bit more mature in your strikes, only doing so when needed. You used to be an Anonymous agent after it was found out by them who hacked into the Cloud of the son of an affluent Wayne Enterprises CFO in revenge for a very personal matter. You gave that up after a few years. What can you say? You got bored.

When you graduated with your degree in computer engineering, you had already a small business going on top of your job as a white hat hacker. 

To discuss the latter, a lot of people think hackers are the scum of the earth and just harass people. Not entirely so. Basically, you hacked into the websites of various companies so they could find out their small faults and build a stronger security system. Some companies paid more handsomely than others. 

Your other job was repairing computes, building them for friends and generally being a tech geek. Considering your job was working on a computer for many hours and running tons of programs to try and fit through a hole on website after website, you had to build your own computer. The success got the attention of a small crowd of people: rich people.

Being in touch with the rich side of the city had its benefits, as these were more often than not your customers. You could fix anything you got your hands on, translate any circuit board and rewire any and all motherboards that came across your workbench. This was your superpower and you were rewarded for it. Rich, old people were goldmines. Real asshole-ish, sexist goldmines, but goldmines nonetheless. It paid to live in Gotham sometimes, even if being a female hacker earned your some scoffs. 

See, even though you were making bank living life indoors being your own boss, your apartment was very small. It didn’t fit much more than a bed, a kitchen, a TV, and a small work station for your tech. Not that you needed a lot of space. Ever since your romantic pleasure cruise ended with that man from out of state, you more or less kept to yourself. You didn’t want to have kids and marriage, ever since that indefinite engagement postponement, seemed like a hassle. With the power of the internet, you could connect to billions of people in a matter of seconds.

How do you think you met The League of Shadows? Through a random recruitment e-mail? Would they bring you on and give you test after test and hand you over a contract, hoping you’d sign it and keep mum about being a contractual terrorist? 

Nope. It was more or less a kidnapping. They would use the term of “gentle coercion” or “lesser of two evils” to describe how they got you. You supposed they weren’t wrong. You did go rather quietly.


	2. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bane will make a short appearance next chapter. Soon enough he'll get some more time on the page, but for now, I hope you guys like Barsad. What I like is that a lot of characters are blank slates, so they can be given characterization.

One of the pitfalls of working by yourself was that you opened yourself up to anonymous clientele. You always opted to meet up in coffee shops, discuss what’s needed or wanted, and then Fed-Ex the resulting product. You’ve never paid a shipping cost in your life that didn’t end up being a twentieth of your slice of the pie. So when you got an e-mail asking to look at a hard drive and speed up a system, you couldn’t say no. That was maybe two days of work for a month’s rent considering what the man was offering. John Barsad. You thought nothing of it.

You turned on your desk fan and let your web application run for a bit. Google posted a $20,000 hack reward for fixing one of their sites and you were looking to take a nice vacation soon. You’d be back, hopefully, in time to see you work pay off.

Just this year you had turned twenty-six. You thought you were looking to be in your prime in both looks and stability for the first time in your life not too far down the line. Working out again and keeping up with it gained you a fine figure and you had learned so much doing your job and getting better on your own. Unlike what people see in the movies, hacking wasn’t sitting in front of a computer all day in the dark, putting on pounds and never showering. Au contraire. On the outside, you didn’t look like a stereotype hacker. You looked very… well, you were nondescript. Pretty, in your own mind, but nondescript. Beauty and brains, as your sister would say. Maybe for Gotham.

Barsad knew what you looked like. If he didn’t, your appearance would have had him looking right past you for something more formidable. Training you, therefore, was going to be a hassle.

Bane’s men could do no wrong. You were just as good as them, but had that tangible quality that you acknowledged to be the truth: you were average. You could blend in. You could go where members of the League could not. Perhaps average was a bit of an understatement. Not a bombshell, but he appreciated your appearance. 

He waved you over when you entered the coffee shop. Indeed, you were smart to know not to meet in a private residence. He respected that. But it was his job to get you to the sewers in as little time as possible. The most important phase of the mission was happening in little over two years. They not only needed time to build the right tech to complete that, but also time for you to hack into the right systems and train you up properly. Just because you were brought on to the League of Shadows didn’t mean that you were going to escape the physical aspect of the organization.

That was all unknown to you, of course. You put your best foot forward, smiled, and sat down.

“John Barsad, right?”  
“Call me Barsad.”  
“Right, okay, you said you had a computer than needed an upgrade?”  
“Yes, right here…” He had an accent that you couldn’t quite place (English-ish?) and looked like he didn’t belong where he was. Red haired, blue-eyed, strong looking even in jeans and a sweater vest, and a quiet demeanor. “I need RAM…”

Barsad produced a Mac out of his backpack. It was a fairly recent model, a notebook, very well-taken care of if the lack of smudges were anything to go by. Your most trusted laptop had a few keys scratched up thanks to your nails and skin cells in between the creases. Its connection speeds were fast enough for you.

“I can tell you care particularly well for your equipment. There isn’t much junk software here and it generally looks brand-new. Sure you need my help?” you asked.  
Barsad didn’t smile back. “I suggest you look in the document files.”  
“Barsad, the problem you have won’t be found there.”  
“Look in the document files.”

That sounded like a threat. You were about to leave, but that payday above your head was too sweet to pass up.

“You could try asking a little nicer or trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Sometimes men were sexist about getting their stuff fixed, assuming that they knew where to go or what to do, but were just a bit “fuzzy on how to do it themselves”. Attitude was something you could handle.  
You held back an eye roll and opened up the main document page. It was nearly empty, save for the pre-programed files of music, photographs and such. You went straight to the Word documents, wondering what you would find that Barsad was so eager for you to get to.

Your heart dropped. There was a file with your name on it. 

The single file held a single document.

“What are you playing at?” you whispered, voice as menacing as you could make it. Which ended up being quite a bit considering what was racing through your mind.  
The buzz of the coffee shop seemed to quiet down around you as your heart started beating so fast that everything else was muted. But Barsad came through loud and clear.

“Open the file. If you value your life.”

That you did value, very highly. You shakily opened it and found a succinct letter addressed to you. Skipping one line of pleasantries, you got to the meat of it.

_You have been found by the League of Shadows to possess a select skill set that will be of use to our cause. You begin tomorrow. We will move you to our location on a permanent basis. Your apartment will not be used by you with exception to keeping up appearances to the general public. We shall fund the rental costs for said apartment from henceforth until the time in which your services to the League expire. Your landlady will be given a check in your name._

_Bring your equipment and anything else you may require. You shall construct and investigate what we ask of you. Barsad shall escort you back to your apartment to begin packing.  
You have no choice in the matter and will meet an accident should you refuse or try to inform the police._

_I hope to make your acquaintance before the week is through._

_Yours,_

_Bane_

You couldn’t process what was happening quickly enough. Barsad took back his laptop, stood up, paid for his drink and waited by the door for you. 

The fuck was the League of Shadows? The fuck was Bane? The fuck was the cause? The fuck did they want with Gotham? You knew it was a shitty place to live if you were the 99%, but it wasn’t as bad as it was three years ago. You missed Batman, but the streets were clean, so the fuck? 

Perhaps Barsad would open his trap and explain a bit before commencing with the kidnapping. 

Though that kidnapping started the minute you walked into Starbucks. 

Man, fuck Starbucks. 


	3. Take Only What You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that no one's going to read this (selfish whining that my inbox has been empty for weeks), but it's still fun to write. I'm kind of inspired by Endings and Beginnings (a hard to find book but well worth the read) about people perceived in society as evil, but those same people have layers to them that are both good and bad, why people go bad, and if redemption is possible, even after death.

“So what is the League of Shadows?” you asked Barsad on the walk over to your apartment complex. 

If it was nighttime seven years ago you might have been able to count on Batman to get you out of your situation. Your kidnapping. But broad daylight and a well-built man to your right made that impossible.

“It is Gotham’s reckoning. Mercenary men hired by someone who wishes to see justice come to the city. It has lived in corruption for too long and we’re going to put a stop to it. Once and for all. It will bring balance to the rest of the world. Gotham’s end is stage one.”  
“How do you plan on doing that? Blowing it up?” you scoffed. “That’s the only ‘once and for all’ way to do it.”  
“More or less. We just need a bomb and a scientist.”  
“Shit, I was kidding,” you muttered. “And how’s your League supposed to survive that?”  
“We aren’t. Gotham will burn with us.”

Okay, kidnapped by a suicidal cult group. There were worse places to be and worse people to be with, not that you could think of any off the top of your head. 

“You seem pleased with that, Barsad. Don’t you have any survival instinct? Like, not being blown up by an atomic bomb?”  
“Enough questions.”  
“If I’m going to be a League member then I ought to have some answers!”

Barsad clenched his jaw and opened the complex door, escorting you inside. What he wouldn’t do to have a gun. That would keep you quiet. But he had to admire your spirit.

“Why don’t you ask Bane when you meet him?”  
Now that would shut you up. Bane often had that effect on people, and he was sure you’d be no different.  
“I will. Whoever Bane is.”

So you wouldn’t be seeing much of this apartment then? You didn’t have too many perishables in the cupboards. Maybe a few duffel bags of clothes and your equipment would be enough. Barsad barked at you not to drag your feet, so you made a bit of noise about needing bathroom privacy. After checking that there was no window for you to climb out of, he let you do as you wished.

Toothbrush, floss, toothpaste, tampons, pads. Maybe they’d let you shower in their compound. Your room… security box with your records, a few changes of clothes, your dog-eared favorite book, phone… after that you could only really think of your computer stuff.

Walking back out into the main room, you saw Barsad fiddling with your circuit boards.  
“Don’t touch that!” you hissed, yanking it out of his hands and into yours, covered with your jean jacket. “I’m working on that!”  
“And what is that… supposed to be?”  
“It’s an invention. I need my hardware to run better without overheating so I’m working on something to resist it.” You looked at it and sighed. “Human hands aren’t supposed to touch it. You ruined it…”  
“I apologize. Bane will provide you with all the technology you need.”  
“More like a box of scraps in my spare time.”

You had made so much progress on that. It took some doing, but a kind supplier traded you a rare metal in exchange for an untraceable pirating device for his PC. That metal was more heat resistant than anything else on the market, and Barsad’s hands, with oils and skin cells, interfered with your fragile system. Damn it. It may be salvageable, but you didn’t hold your breath.

“Have you gotten everything you need?” Barsad asked, eyeing the duffel bag at your feet.  
“It’s going to take a couple hours to pack up all my computer stuff. You’re lucky I don’t have any projects to mail out right now.”  
“It’s not luck. We knew you were free for only my Mac. Lucky you, instead.”  
“Go make yourself a sandwich while I work,” you spat back, stalking back to your work station. You heard a scoff out of your kidnapper before he headed to your small kitchen area. 

“I’m making tea!” you heard after a short time.   
“One cup, with milk, no sugar!” you called back.

You prided yourself on your little inventions. Though your new anti-overheating system was something incredible, there were other doodads on your desk that hopefully the League wouldn’t find interesting. 

External hard drives with powerful viruses, systems that absorbed information from Wi-Fi signals like sponges, a near untraceable application that let you turn on web cams remotely, and credit card trackers. Damn. Maybe if you were a little bit more conspicuous, this League of Shadows wouldn’t be so interested in you.

Little hackerette you.

Barsad brought you over a cup of tea and sat down next to you.  
“If it makes you feel any better, you were going to die whether you were part of the League or not. It’s better to have us to protect you than fend for yourself in the future.”  
You took a sip of tea and processed that. “It doesn’t matter if I die today or tomorrow, Barsad. Everyone dies at one point or another. You, me, Dent, Commissioner Gordon, Bruce Wayne and even Bane. But I suppose delaying the inevitable does bring some kind of hope, doesn’t it? That you’ll be saved at the last minute?”  
“So you won’t be making trouble for us?” he asked with a smile. Barsad actually looked nice when he had a grin on. He reminded you of your ex: handsome one moment and a menace the other. You left before the menace part could ever reach its most dangerous point. You hoped you wouldn’t have to see the menace that was Barsad. You were sure it was there. He was a member of a terrorist cult, how could he not?  
“I suppose not.”

You finished packing and your tea around the same time. Before leaving you stuffed a small picture frame into your bag, locked the door behind you, and followed Barsad down the hall.


	4. Bane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, we finally meet Bane, the big man himself. I still like Tom Hardy's/Nolan's take on him, even though there are way too many unanswered questions about him. How old is he? How does he eat? Does he brush his teeth? How scarred can he be if you can understand him? How does an old injury cause you that much chronic pain? etc etc etc.

You thought that Barsad would hail a cab. Or have his own car. But he seemed to be like you. Living in Gotham gave you no use of a car. Walking, cabs, buses… all served your purpose fine. 

So began the long walk to the sewers of Gotham. You didn’t know what they would look like, and you were quite surprised at just how elaborate of a construction job it was. Drills were going off all around you. Earth was carved out for rooms by worker after worker, blueprints lined certain walls, and it didn’t even smell bad. 

A terrorist cell… right under the noses of Gotham’s best and brightest. If you weren’t so disgusted that you were employed by them, you might have been impressed.

“Your room, then you meet Bane. He has been interested in meeting you,” Barsad said.  
You ignored the looks of the men – not a single woman you could spot among the lot, which made you very anxious – and followed Barsad.

It was twice the size of your apartment, but going by the wiring around the ceilings, you guessed that it wasn’t quite done yet. Table after table were lined up across the expanse of the room. On the tables were either computers, hardware, or a box of scraps for your personal enjoyment. At least you took it that way. You had your own projects to work on, future death deadline be damned. Maybe you could fashion something to get you the hell out of dodge.

Barsad handed you a key. “There is one copy of this key and it is with Bane. So if someone unlocks your door, it will be him. Don’t lose your own. Lock your door when you want privacy, but you drop everything if he comes to you. If you want to shower or wash your clothes, I will escort you to your apartment. Cutting your hair short helps cut down on shower usage.”  
“Uh huh… and I take it when I need to refill my birth control, you’ll hold my hand to the pharmacy.”  
“Yes. Put down your things and I’ll take you to Bane.”

Just before you left you saw a small army cot that was to be your bed. Small digs. Hopefully you wouldn’t be in the sewers for long.  
Out the door and up the metal stairs you went. Activity continued all around you until you seemed to reach the core of the sewer system. 

Squatting down in front of a small corner wall of boxes was a large, shirtless man with some contraption around his head. You could barely hear his breathing from all the noise around you – waterfalls of the sewer system, drills, shuffling around, combat practice – until Barsad cleared his throat. You became acutely aware you were shaking.

The man before you was the head of this terrorist group.

Bane.

“Has our newest member arrived yet?”   
Though a tad muffled, you could make out each word clearly. His voice was accented, soft. This contrasted with his body, which you got a full view of when he stood and turned.  
There was no other word for Bane’s body except massive. His shoulders, his chest, his core, his arms, his hands, his legs, his… mask. Other words started to form. Impenetrable. Scary. Impressive. Dreadful. Masculine. Important. Yes, he was clearly all of those things. But his eyes. Oh, his eyes. There was no warmth there. And they looked right through you. It was like he was reading your mind. 

“Yes, Bane. She’s right here.”  
“Excellent. Delivered earlier than expected.”

Bane strolled over to you. It took him three steps where it would take you double that. You weren’t the tallest one around and Bane’s massive height dwarfed your own. Of course, that only added to your fears. He had a key to your room?! All your wit, your poison tongue, any sort of comeback you could make died on the spot.

He only needed to say your name once to bring your attention back to him.

“Barsad tells me you work on several projects in your own time?”  
“Y-yeah… just some inventions and stuff,” you murmured. 

You hazarded a glance upward to see Bane’s eyes crinkling. He was smiling. That unnerved you more than just receiving a once over, complemented by his eyes gaining nothing from it, staying that dark brown - accented from the dullest bit of light from the construction work going on all around him. 

“You may continue that freedom here… unless you abuse it, of course. Then we will keep a closer eye on you. But for now, I suggest personalizing your room to your preferences. You start work tomorrow. Barsad shall bring the blueprints over to you and you can start crafting, my dear. Training starts tomorrow as well. Your concise schedule shall be given to you along with your blueprints. Understood?”  
“Yes, Bane.” Training?! What the hell?!  
“Barsad, come see me after she is settled.”  
“Yes, Bane.”

Glancing over your shoulder to see Bane looking after you, you hustled to Barsad’s side and followed him back to your room. It wasn’t very far away from where Bane was sitting.   
“Training, Barsad?” you asked as your kidnapper helped you put your gear down. “What are you, his right hand man?”  
“In answer to your second question, yes. In answer to your first, also yes. The League’s members are cunning and strong. You may not be able to kill a man in the years you’ll be here, but protecting yourself will come as easily as breathing.”  
“I suppose that’s not a bad idea. Not like kidnapping someone… and you better be using gloves, John.”  
“I see your tongue is back. Did Bane nab it?” he asked. A teasing tone?! Clever Barsad.  
“You’re probably scared of him, too! He’s built like a mountain and looks twice as tough.”  
“He is that, but he is also smart and as fair as he can be.”

You had no idea what that meant. Terrorists, as far as you were concerned, were not fair. Especially considering there was a city to blow up. But at least there was no bomb. Yet.  
You broke out of your thoughts to see Barsad waiting patiently for you to unlock the door to your quarters. Fumbling, you brought out your small key and did so. Maybe you would make a necklace out of it as not to lose it. He took about three steps inside and pointed to a large box.

“You have a stockpile of meals in the corner. Just tug on the string and you’ll get a hot serving of food with a bit of time. Every month you’ll get a new box so don’t waste them. We have a doctor, but don’t get sick and be a waste of space. If he’s not busy, Bane will be by later to talk again. Good night.”

With that, Barsad left you to your devices. As soon as he closed the door, you ran over to lock it. It was heavy and iron and almost matched your room.  
You supposed ‘room’ was a bit generous. No windows, totally artificially lit, grey upon grey, square, and built like a prison cell with computers and random circuit boards.   
Training, building, eating, sleeping. It kind of was like prison. You tried to count your freedoms. 

You could eat when you wanted. Rifling through your dinners, there was some variety: pork and potatoes, chili, stew, spaghetti. God. It all sounded like a stomachache waiting to happen, not to mention very high in calories and fat. Then again, with your training, only God knew what you were going to look like when this was done. Dead. That’s what you were going to look like.  
Back to positivity. Another freedom.

Other than Bane, you were in control of your room greeters. Wary of the men, you didn’t see Bane opening the door and inviting in something terrible. He didn’t quite seem interested in that. Thank the Lord.  
You had all the tech you could dream of. Without a job to work with, you could invent in between your very few responsibilities. Even if they did take up some time, there was something nice about having the power to choose what to do next.

That was about it. You were stuck as a terrorist by proxy in the League of Shadows. What could get worse?

Bane visiting you in the middle of the night, that’s what.


	5. Lecture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get a surprise visitor before your first night in the sewers.
> 
> Short because I've been very busy.

You didn’t know quite what to expect when Bane visited you before you went to bed. The worse flashed in your mind – rape, a beating, threats – when he squatted down next to you. Yet his voice and tone belied something else while he asked after your well-being.

“Did you have enough to eat? Proper nourishment?”  
“Those MREs fill you up pretty well.”  
“Good. Did you bring enough supplies from your apartment?”  
“I think so. I didn’t really bring workout clothes for training, whatever that is.”  
“They shall be supplied to you. Barsad will assist with that.”  
“Okay, that’s fine.”  
“Do you feel safe here?”

You couldn’t lie to Bane. He knew if you would. That you didn’t doubt. Some things you just knew about a man. 

“It’s hit and miss. I mean, the key to the door, only two keys, that’s nice. But it’s like I’m the only girl here and there are so many guys with misplaced morals that… yeah, I’m nervous.”  
“If any man here touches you or assaults you, I shall break their neck myself.”  
“So you don’t tolerate rape… but you tolerate and help facilitate mass murder?” You cracked a grin. “You are a strange man, Bane.”  
“Gotham is a weed that calls for being uprooted. Talia says so and Talia always gets what she desires.”  
“Talia?”  
“Our leader. She is the one who commands me and I command everyone else.”  
“A female terrorist leader. That’s a new one,” you said, shrugging. “Why does she want to destroy Gotham?”  
“She is carrying out her father’s dying request. If she gives you an order, you will be carrying it out without complaint or question.”  
“If you say so.”  
“That was not up for debate, my dear.”  
“Err… yes, sir.”  
“Much improved. You are going to report to Barsad where you were introduced to me at 0700 hours, so manage your time well enough to eat and get ready. There is a basin in the far corner of the room for minor washing.”  
“I know, Barsad showed me.”  
“Training shall take place in three hour bursts over the day with two hours break in between for your crafting, meals and rest. After eight p.m., the night is yours. I see you brought a book?”  
“Yeah, if I have time.”  
“I am an avid reader myself,” Bane said softly, eyes crinkling again. It actually made you smile as well.  
“I’m glad to hear that, Bane.”  
“I believe that is all for now. I won’t take up any more of your time. Good night, my dear.” 

With that, Bane stood and left you alone, locking the door behind him.

You had another few words to add to your description of Bane.

Magnetic. Soft-spoken. To the point.

And he wasn’t going to let you get raped without punishment. Even if he was a crazy terrorist… well, he wasn’t all bad. And that made you uncomfortable. It was so much easier to call villains evil and one-dimensional and not think any further on the topic.

Bane did care about you to some degree. Though you sensed he had a ruthless bad side, there were layers to him. 

Or he was manipulating you into working harder for him. Monsters like that never truly cared about anyone other than themselves. Their inner circle were seen as puppets to further their own desires and huge plans of terror and violence were more often than not centered around achieving one end, even a simple one.

There was a riddle you heard once. 

Two sisters were at a funeral. One falls in love with someone working there. The other sister dies the next week. What happened?  
The sister that fell in love was a sociopath who murdered her sister just to see the man again because he worked at the funeral home. 

You wondered who Bane wanted to seek vengeance on that the entire city of Gotham had to be the collateral damage. But it was interesting that wanting to keep you safe was the way he manipulated you. To a certain level it worked.

Another choice of words to describe Bane. What a clever bastard.


	6. Day... One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when you realize you have the entire end of the story done, so now you have to work your way to it.

Six a.m. starts were not your friend by any means. You were so used to being your own boss that you could wake up and go to sleep whenever you wanted. So because that’s the way your body was trained, this early alarm interrupted a very short sleep.  
Barsad didn’t stop by to give you training clothes so you hoped that opening your door meant that there would be a small package or something that you could switch into. Jogging pants and an overlarge sweater weren’t exactly ideal for, what you could only imagine to be, laps and laps of arduous labor.  
“Son of a fucking bitch,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes and heading over to your MRE station.   
Nothing seemed fit for morning. No milk, no coffee, no toast, no cereal.   
“Ugh, oatmeal.” It was better than nothing and didn’t taste too bad going down. Dried fruit and granola were also in small packages in your supply crate, but you didn’t touch the granola. It always made you gag from being so dry and tasteless. Even being so tired couldn’t change that.

Your tiny sink and basin meant at least you could splash cold water on your face and brush your teeth. There was even hot water too for hand-washing. Well, it meant that in one aspect, this sewer room was somewhat better than your first ever apartment in Gotham. That was something.  
Opening your door, there was indeed a package addressed to you with a note from Barsad. You would become very familiar with his chicken scratch in the next couple of years.

_Enclosed is a week’s worth of training clothes. Clean the boots yourself. We leave every Friday night to your apartment to wash. Ask for replacements, but don’t be a nuisance about it._  
Yours,  
Barsad 

Always with the cordial tone reminding you not to be a bother.

Your stomach was working overtime to keep its contents down while you walked down the hallways to Bane’s area. He didn’t seem like a man who slept, but there he was, directing men with calm energy. Barsad was next to him and noticed you first. He nudged Bane, who turned to look at you. He studied you for a bit, your hair, your clothes, the look on your face, before waving away the small group of men he was talking to. They left without another word, not even sparing you a second glance.  
“Er… reporting for training,” you said quietly.  
“Right on time,” Bane said, pulling a small watch from his breast pocket to confirm that. He was wearing a heavy coat now. It must have been custom made to fit across the large expanse of his barrel chest, warm enough to hide from the cold of the sewers. With his muscle, you thought, he must be warm no matter where he is. “Barsad, give her the time table you’ll have her on.”  
“Yes, sir.” Barad pulled a small notepad out of his pants pocket. “In the morning we’ll be jogging around Gotham’s beaches to build your stamina and cardio. Push-ups, crunches, carrying weights, that sort of thing. Then you’ll be back down here to work and eat. After that, you’ll have three hours of combat training and weight lifting. It will take you a long time to properly throw a punch and use your changing build to your advantage. Back to your room. Lastly you’ll be practicing firearms. Firing, cleaning, proper technique.” With that, he put it away and raised his eyebrows. “We will make adjustments due to your soreness until you are fit enough for a consistent schedule.”  
“In three months you should be up to snuff,” Bane supplemented.   
“Got it. Sounds awful, but got it.”  
That earned you a chuckle out of Bane, but stony faced Barsad merely looked on. “Not a soul here pretends that it is pleasant to begin with, but your body shall adjust. Barsad, go on with her.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
He was dressed similarly to you, not in fatigues like much of the other men in the sewers, but in sweats and tennis shoes. You’ve seen him in two different kinds of outfits so far, yet perhaps fatigues would look the most suitable. You on the other hand already began to miss your oversized clothes and fuzzy socks.

 

You were right about one thing: training was awful. Fifteen minutes of stretches, an hour run in one direction and an hour run in the other, and you felt like you were going to throw up if you had to do another ab crunch. Barsad was relentless, constantly pushing you to do better. Even though you did work out a bit by yourself, clearly you weren’t at all fit enough for this. 

The beaches were foggy and cold, even in the rather pleasant summer climate for Gotham. Not a single soul was out there except for you and Barsad. When the days went on you began to wonder if no one would notice the oddity of two people training at very specific times daily. This training would go on through the winter, wouldn’t it? What about when the beaches were livelier during hotter days? Would someone try and talk to the two of you, strike up a conversation about health and fitness? What would Barsad say? 

Your story was already given to you, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. Barsad was your fitness instructor and you were on a strict regimen of early morning exercise. If you got really fast, maybe you could run away? That thought was always present in your mind, but always with a futile ending. They would find you, the League would, and death would be inevitable. Or they would stage your death and keep you underground forever.  
You were smarter than that. You prided yourself on being smarter than that.  
Maybe training was awful, but at least it wasn’t hell. And you still wondered what kind of crafting the League would have you doing.

After cool down stretching, Barsad walked back with you to the sewers.  
“Not a bad first day,” he acknowledged. “It’s a good thing you didn’t have me starting on square one. Maybe it won’t take three months in terms of stamina.”  
“So for combat training, are you going to beat me up daily or something?” you huffed, finishing your water.  
“Your first month will be learning how to throw a punch and where. Sparring won’t be for a long time. Don’t worry.”  
“I’ll count my blessings.”

Back in the sewers, you noticed several tubes sitting next to your door.   
“Ah, the blueprints made it. Open them up, study them, and I’ll knock on your door at noon.”  
“See you, Barsad.”

You opened your door with one hand and kicked in the blueprints with the other. Now for something you could get into.   
Barsad said your schedule adjustments would be more or less inevitable when training made you so sore that you wouldn’t be able to move much. Or at least that’s what you gleaned off the surface.   
More time in the lab doing what you did best? Hopefully you got sore really soon. And the thought of being excited to build when in the mock employment of terrorists scared you a bit. 

You reasoned in your psyche that the only reason you were excited was because crafting was one of the few things that did make you happy. You liked it even more than coding and hacking. Staring at a screen for hours bored you; it was why you quit Anonymous. With the resources from the League, maybe you could build something worthwhile.

Something to halt their plans and save Gotham.

You didn’t know anything about atomic bombs, but that couldn’t stop you. 

Maybe you wouldn’t get far with sabotaging blueprints – indeed your devices would be tested before they went out the door so you didn’t even bother entertaining that thought for long – but devices of your own design? That mini EMP? That would be worth putting in effort. The faster you built your League stuff, the sooner you could get on your stuff.

Without further delay, you washed up a bit, cracked open an MRE, and started studying what would be taking up an awful lot of your time.


	7. Combat Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

The schematics were complex, but nothing you couldn’t handle with the proper amount of time. Lots of soldering, lots of wiring, lots of things you would need tech for. Certainly tech you wouldn’t be able to get by yourself. It’s not like you had it in your sewer cave in your box of scraps. You occupied yourself with sorting the parts and tools you had around the next few tables. You idly wondered how you would get the parts for your own devices without raising concerns from Bane. Your mini-EMP needed specific parts. 

It looked like you would be building plenty of remote controls. For what? Explosions? Barsad mentioned a bomb. That would be easy enough to mess with, you figured. A big bomb? The final one? Maybe you’d be far enough away from Bane when he pulled the trigger that he wouldn’t put his hands around your neck. You’d probably have to go off the grid and maybe you would life a full life until Bane or his men would find you.

You were just about finished with sorting when Barsad came knocking at your door.  
“Who is it?” you called.  
“It’s Bar- you know damn well who it is.”  
You smirked before opening the door. “Combat training?”  
“You’re lucky that I won’t be punching you in the face,” he grumbled.  
“Don’t pout, Mr. League member.”

The two of you chatted lightly before heading down to large area of the sewer system. There were a few punching bags hanging around, but not much else. A few men were patrolling here and there while others pulled up a metal folding chair for the show. You didn’t intend for your training to be that hilarious, but with a trained assassin, who knew what it would be like.

Barsad was a black t-shirt with combat pants and boots on. Now this outfit seemed more Barsad than anything. You wondered what he used to look like when he was younger. After all, everyone was a child at some point. You could almost picture the man in front of you. Tiny, red hair, blue eyes, a wide smile with a look of wonder about him.

Bane? He could never have been one. He might have just appeared at one point in time out of nothing. There was no way any mother had held him in her arms. Maybe if he felt love he wouldn’t be plotting a city’s downfall.

What about Talia? There was no way she felt love either. She wanted to destroy the city for her father? You supposed crazy bred crazy and thought no more on it.

Barsad cleared his throat and started to put tape on his knuckles.  
“To throw a punch for someone who has not thrown many, or any for that matter, you have to avoid as much bone as possible. Bone on bone means fractures, breaks, much pain. Avoid the mouth because bacteria from teeth and salvia will infect your hand. Go for the nose or between the eyes if you aim for the head. Body blows are powerful and better suited for your height.”  
“What about kicks?” you asked, tapping the toe of your boot on the cement floor.  
“You may lose your balance, but a kick may bring more force depending on how you throw your weight around. Speaking of, you need to put your whole body into a swing or else you may just tap your opponent.”  
“Just how much am I going to be fighting?”  
“Not a lot. We have men for that. But you should know how to defend yourself.”

Fair enough. 

You spent the next three hours learning how to punch, kick, knee and elbow a sandbag, over and over and over again. It was so that you could punch someone in your sleep, according to Barsad. For you, it would have to be someone that wasn’t moving and was very heavy, like that stupid _fucking_ sandbag.

Frustration started to seep into your core as Barsad barked at you about how you were going to lose if you kept up a form like that. Your hits became harder, faster. Grunts ripped from your throat as you slowly started to picture Barsad’s face wherever your blows landed.

“Stop getting angry!” Barsad snapped, grabbing your wrist. “If you get angry, you will get sloppy! Your hits won’t land and your opponent will taunt you and hurt you!”  
“I’m not angry, I’m just trying to do it right so you won’t yell at me,” you growled. “It’s my first day, so I thought you’d be more understanding. We’ve been at this for three hours.”  
“You have to work with me. This is the most vital part of your training, so I’m going to be harsher.”

You paused, knowing that you couldn’t snap back. Pulling your wrist back, you gave four more good hits before heading back to your room. Maybe some tinkering would calm you down, but you hated to build when you were angry. You thought punching something would be catharsis, but it just made everything worse.

You just had to have been kidnapped! Why hadn’t anyone alerted the authorities?! Some had to notice your mail not getting picked up or you not going into your apartment. You didn’t have many friends, which was your own fault. You cursed yourself for getting into such a stupid field.

You didn’t want to wallow in self-pity or whine about your situation, but it really was a terrible place to be in. 

 

Cracking your knuckles, you got started on the first few steps of your primary assignment. It was going to be used for a bank heist, but for the stock market instead. Basically, you were going to hack into the stock market and impact the Wayne Enterprise investments. Shortly thereafter, Bruce Wayne would go bankrupt and be forced to turn over power of his company to Talia.  
You sensed some major flaws with this plan. 

First, Talia – or Miranda Tate, as she was known in the public sphere – did not know Bruce particularly well and had no real stake in the company. If her seduction didn’t go as planned, then the whole plan pretty much would go to hell.

Second, there would be no way to insert your device anywhere on Wall Street to manipulate the stocks without getting caught. Therefore, the stock market would have to be taken hostage. In a terrorist situation like that, wouldn’t the market just roll back? Wouldn’t anyone find only one super rich recluse’s stocks taking a tumble and losing all his money a bit… suspicious? 

Third, this would supposedly lure Batman (oh, you sure as hell were surprised when you found out Wayne’s alter ego, but then again it sort of made sense) out of his hiding place, knowing a large-scale attack was taking place. Why not just take out your target then? Who cares if the world is watching! Do what you need to do! 

All the piddling around and blowing up the entire city seemed pointless if you were only after one man, even if Gotham was as scummy as Talia’s dad thought it was. It was sort of like Austin Powers where Scott thought it would make more sense just to shoot Powers and end it all.

“I just don’t get evil… do I?” you muttered, laughing to yourself. 

Whatever. If they wanted to drag their feet in a plot that would take two minutes if you had a gun and a key to Bruce Wayne’s manor, fine, it meant you lived a little longer.


	8. Guns and Crafting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how many of you would be interested in my attempt at a Mad Max Fury Road Reader insert?
> 
> No one?
> 
> READER INSERT IT IS THEN.

You had started out with the bare bones wiring of your mini tablet when there was a knock at your door. You hated to leave work behind, especially when you were just getting started. Lamenting lost progress, quickly you stored your equipment away and headed to the other end of the room. Barsad was holding a small hand gun, its handle pointed in your direction.

“You are going to become very acquainted with this. Come. We have a lot of work to do.”

As to the type of gun you were just handed, you were sure it was a Glock, but not confident on any other details. You had shot guns before when your brother took you to the shooting range every now and again, but there you just fired a few rounds from a Magnum. This seemed a lot different. Lighter, bigger magazine, and small. 

Following Barsad, you found yourself in his room, about the same size as yours, maybe smaller (at least Bane didn’t play favorites). There on a cluttered table lay different types of ammunition, guns, rags, books and paper targets. 

“It might take you awhile to learn how to properly fire this. I don’t suspect that you will be in many gun fights, or that you’ll need to use it from a long distance, but it is essential to know how to use one.”  
“I have fired a gun before, Barsad,” you replied. “I just don’t know how to clean one or anything.”  
He seemed slightly impressed. “This is good… very good… come, I shall teach you.”

Barsad, to you, was actually quite nice. Patient more often than not and eager to see that you were progressing in your education. 

God, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to use one of these things. You didn’t want to take anyone’s life personally. Seeing as how you were part of a terrorist organization and everything, death due to your ‘helpful’ actions was inevitable. But you didn’t have to like it. You couldn’t not stand for it; that would mean your own death.

 

Learning to fight hand-to-hand and exchange different clips in your gun was exhausting, and it was only your first day. It took you exactly that one day to realize that Bane wasn’t going to keep you underground forever. There would be days where you would have to fight in the name of the League of Shadows. Possibly take a life, too. 

You could see yourself, standing over a shaking citizen of Gotham. Perhaps an older rich man, eyes wide and begging for mercy wordlessly, too shocked to say anything out of fear for the looming shadow of Bane. And you, small and still vulnerable you, would be pointing a gun in that man’s face. Bane might give an eloquent speech, or be as monosyllabic as possible. It was so hard to get a read on that man.

“You will learn how to fire rounds correctly tomorrow. I think that is enough instruction for today. I shall see you tomorrow at seven.”  
“See you then, Barsad.”

A whole evening to yourself. There wasn’t much evening left, but it still was nice not to be bothered. 

 

Part of you wanted to continue on your tablet-turned-stock manipulator. The sooner you got off the ground and running with that, the sooner you could get started on your own shit. 

You weren’t sure what you would be able to do to stop the bomb from going off. In order to wipe Gotham off the map, the League would need something like an atomic bomb. Something to launch a nuclear blast that would destroy the ecosystem of not only Gotham, but all of New York City for years and years to come. 

Would there be a switch to such a device? A remote control that would decide when the bomb would detonate? Perhaps a trigger that would cause the explosion with the gentlest press of a button?

Nah. That would just be stupid. Remote control detonation was an extremely fallible piece of garbage. It was easy enough to stop that. All you had to do was short out either the device or put something similar on the bomb so the remote signal couldn’t be read. Then boom. Or lack of boom. 

“That would be an interesting way to save the day,” you mused as you carefully replaced the inner workings of your tablet. “But Bane’s not that stupid. And Talia probably isn’t either…”

Cursing your luck, you focused even harder on your task. Soon enough, though, it was time for bed. You had never felt less comfortable before going to sleep. The bed was a cot with not nearly enough blankets to keep you warm. To compromise, you threw some of your clothes on top of the wool blanket handed to you in a bundle by Barsad. You brought along several thick hoodies and a winter coat, enough to give you enough heat to make it through nights in the sewers. 

You didn’t wish you were Bane, but you did wish you had his build. That amount of muscle would keep you warm forever.

Shrugging at the thought of you growing a foot and some change and adding on roughly seventy pounds of muscle, you got ready for bed. 

Cold was certainly on the mark. After your own body heat simmered under blankets and coats, you felt warm and was able to shut your eyes. 

This was to be your routine for the next two years? You reminded yourself that there really was no escape unless you were somehow able to contact the Spetsnaz or SEALs or some other kind of extreme specialty military force to rescue you, but that thought was but a fantasy.

You were quite stuck. But you had your own ingenuity to keep your hope going. That would have to be good enough for now.


	9. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

Your stomach started to become more accommodating to the food that you were given. In all honesty, the MREs weren’t bad. They certainly had more flavor to them than you thought, though perhaps a bit of salt would be nice.

Barsad’s training was starting to make you sore, and you didn’t have any IcyHot patches or heating pads to help with the pain.  
This started to affect you greater to the point where you were begging for a bit of mercy in combat training a month in. 

“Barsad, I’m not going to get any building done if I’m too sore to move my arms or legs,” you muttered, grunting as Barsad added more weight to your equipment.  
Squats could kiss your slowly tightening ass.

“We’ve barely been at this a month and you’re tired?” he replied, bringing out the punching bag.  
“You and Bane _said_ that my schedule would be adjusted to compensate for my soreness. Was that a load of shit,” you muttered, pausing to grunt and throw down your weights, “or the truth?”  
“You are not the level I want you to be to take an extended leave from training. Now be quiet and let’s see your form here.”  
If eyes could shoot daggers, Barsad would have two in his head. He pointedly ignored the look you threw him and braced the other side of the sandbag.  
“Now begin.”

Bane had begun watching your training if he had a minute to spare and he enjoyed seeing you progress. After all, he had time before he needed your tablet to do what it needed to. Time could be well spent getting you prepared. 

A tiny whirlwind of force, you were becoming. And Bane found himself smiling at the thought of it all.

Grabbing a medium-sized cardboard tube from a League member, Bane contemplated handing it to you directly rather than putting it beside your door as per routine. You could do with some face-to-face time with him, having interacted with him so little these past few weeks, so he waited patiently for your training session to end.

Rubbing your eyes, you walked back to your room, hoping for a tiny bit of shut-eye before weapon training.

That front, you were progressing well. Cleaning, knowing what clips could be substituted for what gun, and even in accuracy, you were doing well for a beginner. Barsad was impressed and told Bane as much.  
You didn’t want to be tired for that. But the sight of Bane woke you right up.

“Bane,” you said as a greeting and nothing more before grabbing your key.  
“I have new blueprints for you. I need several small tracking devices built to keep track of noteworthy citizens of Gotham.”  
“That’s not something that’ll be particularly difficult to make,” you considered. “But sounds like something you should already have in your possession.”  
“They need to be waterproof.”  
“That’s different, I suppose… I’ll get right on it,” you replied, taking the blueprint container.  
“How is your training going?” Bane asked, folding his arms across his chest. “Well? Your body is keeping up with what is demanded of it?”  
“Um…” Bane never asked after your well-being after that first night. You weren’t quite sure how to react. _React coolly._ “Fine. A bit sore, but fine.”  
Bane nodded and bid you a good afternoon before heading off.  
“Weird,” you muttered before locking your door behind you.

Maybe he was testing if you were going to complain. Not you. You were honest, yes, but you were never a whiner. 

You would tell Barsad that you needed new birth control pills in the next week. The way cramping affected you, birth control was the only thing to keep it at bay. The pharmacy gave you three months’ worth of pouches per prescription filling, so at least you wouldn’t be bugging him that much about it. How long were you going to be down here? Over a year? 

You groaned inwardly and started soldering some nodes. The weekly laundry trips were a source of solace for you, and you never thought in a million years that your apartment would be that. At least it was warm, goddamn it. The sewers were cold at all hours and it was likely to get worse during the temperamental New England winters. 

Maybe you would buy some thick blankets while on your shopping trip to the local pharmacy. Anything would be better than what you had now. 

“Barsad?” you started as soon as you opened your door up to him. “I need new birth control.”  
“How soon?” he asked, not bothering to turn around when you followed behind him to start weapons training.  
“Before next Friday.”  
“We will get some tomorrow. You do not need a doctor, yes?”  
“No, I just need to call.” 

You didn’t have health insurance, so your birth control cost you about $20 a month. This round would cost you $60. You didn’t carry much cash on you, so you’d need to go to the ATM too, unless Barsad was going to loan you this money. 

By now, your targets were moving farther and farther away from you, but you could hit them from 20 yards away. You were used to the smell of the gunpowder and heat on your hands. The jerk of the gun still made you jump. Smaller guns sacrificed power and ammunition, which Barsad repeated many times as out of the question. 

“You don’t seem to be improving much beyond that distance. But sixty feet is an impressive distance for someone not specially trained,” Barsad conceded. “Get some rest. In the morning we’ll do our run to your pharmacy and end it there.”  
“I want to buy some blankets, too. I’m freezing in my room.”  
“I don’t care if you want to buy them.”  
“Is that a ‘I don’t care one way or the other if you buy them’ or a ‘I don’t care that you want to, you’re not allowed to’?”  
“The first.”  
“Do you care about anything?”  
He looked at you steadily. “No.”  
“That hurts. I’m your protégé, if you think about it.” You said this with a smile. “Whatever. Night, John.” 

Barsad gave you a short nod and watched after you as you left for your room, hopefully for some shut eye. You were strange, but you were the only member in the League with a sense of humor. He liked to think he had one when the moment was appropriate, which was hardly ever around Bane. 

He would never admit it to you, or to anyone, but you were growing on him. 

Back in your room, you got to work on the new project Bane gave you. That one was simple. You already had the body casings of GPS devices in your box of junk. You just had to fashion them with homing beacons and vacuum seal them with a thin enough material where you could activate them. You supposed that they wouldn’t have to deal with especially high water pressure. Considering the sewers, they probably had to just make it through the gushing outflows. 

“I wonder who you’re going to be for,” you mused to what would soon be your tracking devices. 

You made a mental note to fashion a few more. Tracking devices were very, very useful. Grinning at a memory that surfaced, you put your head down and went to work before your cot called you for a long-awaited sleep. 

Laundry day and birth control seemingly would save you from an especially heinous workout regime led by old John Barsad. 

If things didn’t pick up, you might actually get bored! 


	10. The New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you don't feel any different.

Barsad didn’t let you out of his sight that whole morning. Not when you were in line for your pills, not when you perused store aisles for a thick Welsh blanket, and not even while you folded clean laundry into your duffel bag. He didn’t speak very much either, especially when your apartment neighbors made suggestive comments about you bringing a man to your private domicile.

“Idiots,” Barsad grunted, sorting your clothes and his.   
“Found your voice, did you? Yeah, they’re morons, but they’re nice. Won’t rat you out or anything.”  
“That’s a plus, certainly.”  
“Hey, loyalty does count for a lot!” You thought you sensed sarcasm in his voice. It was so hard to tell with him. The ginger man was difficult to read. Maybe people like him just weren’t that expressive, save for a sly smile every now and again.  
“Oh, I’m sure...” His eyebrows raised while he flopped down on the couch, gazing over at you. “I’m sure they had a lot to keep secret about you."

You gave up the point. In truth, your neighbors did keep quite a bit from the cops. Some of your tech wasn’t legal and neither were your methods when you were in Anonymous. But they all kept their mouths shut, which you were grateful for.

You noticed that Barsad relaxed when we was around you, and the two of you even got some uninterrupted sleep in. That’s what many League members did when they weren’t on post with Bane or on call. It did wile away the hours, almost becoming routine to you.

Frankly, the schedule that you thought would absolutely murder you ended up being the sort of structured environment that was missing out of your life for the past few years. Getting work where you could find it didn't exactly lend itself to stability after all.

 

Indeed, six months into your kidnapping made you much more comfortable than you would have wagered possible. The Friday breaks when winter began to hit were slightly extended since your apartment was noticeably warmer than the sewers. 

Barsad was your chaperone for everything from pharmacy visits to haircuts. You truly felt that he was one of the few people you could rely on anymore. He was tough, but also reasonable. 

The enigmatic leader of the League of Shadows, Bane, seemed to just be tough. He would sometimes sit in on your training seasons, spar with you for a flesh-and-blood opponent, but mostly he would stay out of your way. You supposed you preferred it this way. It was difficult to focus with his intimidating presence. You just gave him what he wanted out of your workshop and he was on his way. 

Before you knew it, and you only knew it from scant observations during Friday laundry days, the holidays were upon you and it was Christmas. You convinced Bane that you needed to send a card to your sister, at least for the holidays. She had her fears about Gotham and cutting the Christmas contact that was tradition in nearly all families would certainly raise alarms.

Though you thought you were getting more freedom and trust, he still read and reread your card many times to try and sniff out any hidden messages. You weren’t much of a poet, so there wasn’t much besides wishing happy holidays with a few small hearts.

Much to your surprise though, you did get a small present in honor of the holidays.

A little Primus stove from Barsad. He apparently noticed how cold it was in your room and how small and petite you were, thinking a paraffin stove would warm you up better than a space heater.

“I’d… um… give you a hug if I knew you were comfortable with that sort of thing,” you acknowledged, gently patting your hands against your legs as your mentor set up the small device.  
“I’m not, but thank you for the appreciation,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears going red at the nervous affectation you gave him.  
“I didn’t get you anything, though.”  
“How about you don’t get mad at me that you’ll still have to train and do everything on Christmas?”  
You let out a small growl at that before relenting. “Deal…”  
Barsad, to his credit, did give you a smile to your face. “Good. The Primus is set up. It should make your room a bit toasty. Not sauna nice, but toasty. It can be loud, but think of it as white noise.”  
“Good. You’re welcome to borrow it if you wish.”  
As he walked out, he heard you gently hum 'Silver Bells'. 

It took no more than fifteen minutes for you to feel the difference in temperature in your room. It wouldn’t feed to all corners of the small room, but you weren’t planning to move away from it anytime soon. Scooting your cot over, you snuggled under your blankets, wished yourself a Merry Christmas, and went to sleep for the night.

And a Happy Goddamned New Year.


	11. The Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a bit of action!

January and February held a handful of interesting events for you. 

One, you learned that the timetable for the takeover of Gotham was moving as projected. Your device for the banks was nearly complete and would surely be ready for a June appearance. Bane’s men had already started infiltrating the construction companies. Explosives would be placed in strategic points within city borders, which needed constant upkeep thanks to the constant commerce via trucks, weight of cars on roads, and cold weather affecting everything from concrete to bridges.

Two, you were very nearly sexually assaulted in your bedroom. That story would be told soon.

Third, you caught a rather terrible case of pneumonia. That story would be told later.

First off, your role in Gotham’s destruction and the timetable until your last day on Earth was read out to you by Bane personally.

 

“It is quite simple, my dear. Your device will hack into Bruce Wayne’s finances. It will appear as though he made bad gambles in stocks. He loses his fortune and Talia comes in with a seemingly perfect solution.”  
“I know. It’s nearly done. I just need something to practice on. Do you have a dummy account or two to practice transfers?”  
Bane mused. “I’m sure Kidji should be able to help you on that front.”

Kidji was a West African male that Bane had found fighting for his life in Senegal. Taking pity on him and also seeing potential to further his own goals, Bane took him on as a soldier of fortune. Kidji had been with him ever since, and that was over fifteen years ago.   
He was a very smart man, just as quiet as Bane, but more approachable. You never had much of a chance to speak with him, so first impressions could have been wrong. But you didn’t think so.

“Got it.”  
“And as for the stock market takeover, you shall be there.”  
“Me? Why?!”  
“To make sure your device works. You shall be a hostage among two real ones. You will receive a fake ID and be present before my men and I arrive.”  
“Fine. And when I am attempted to be rescued?”  
“I will take you as far as I can before leaving you. Barsad shall pick you up and send a note anonymously to the authorities saying you were found save at the side of a road. Bruised but no worse for wear.”  
“And immediately tried to be found and questioned while being in the possession of a terrorist,” you supplied.  
“I doubt the police will care that much about you… much to my dismay,” he added upon seeing your ‘gee, thanks for that’ look you tossed him. “But that will not matter until June. The stadium attack is planned for September. I have a friend that shall re-engineer our nuclear reactor into a bomb. The bomb itself shall go off in five months’ time.”  
“We don’t have a nuclear reactor,” you replied bluntly. There’s no way in hell you knew how to build one.  
“Bruce Wayne does and Talia will find a way to obtain it for us.”  
“Right. And your friend?”  
“Dr. Pavel, a brilliant man. Expert on weaponized fusion reactions. I will bring him on board in a couple months.”  
“How are you going to get him to agree to this? He sounds like he’s anti-weaponry of the nuclear variety.”  
“I am quite persuasive, my dear,” Bane said cryptically. You didn’t doubt threats of force were inevitable. He liked doing things like that. “I was quite persuasive with you.”  
“Yeah, you sure were.”

You leaned back in your chair and gave Bane a once over. It took some time, but you were actually beginning to feel comfortable around the man.

That was scary.

Bane took three large steps forward, put a hand on either armrest of your chair and leaned in so close to your face that you could practically taste the painkillers pumped through his mask.   
So much for feeling comfortable around him. He still was quite imposing, especially with those cold eyes of his. Did that previous statement sound sarcastic to him? You didn’t mean it to be.  
“Yes… quite… _persuasive…_ ”

You focused your gaze on a small crack in the ground when you found that you could stand that gaze of Bane’s no longer. A small chuckle sounded in your right ear, the mask grazing your jaw before Bane stood straight and left the room, locking it firmly behind him.

You felt oddly violated, though he didn’t touch you. What exactly did that comment mean? He wasn’t going to persuade you to do anything sexual… was he?

That though alone kept you glued in your seat for several hours. Bane seemed to know what kind of impression he left because Barsad didn’t see you for any sort of training that day. Or the next.

 

In fact, it was four in the morning on the third day of Bane’s taunt (you had finally termed it that after much thought) that you heard your door open. 

Your door was loud, heavy and creaky. It would wake up someone in a coma, honestly, so you were wondering who was coming to your door at this impossibly early hour, or so it read from a nearby display clock on your makeshift nightstand, a milk crate.

However, your heart didn’t start pounding until you heard the familiar click of the locking mechanism. 

No one had ever locked that door in your memory when walking inside. The footsteps were even unfamiliar; they were quick and quiet and coming for you.

As you were about to turn over, a very strong hand shot to your mouth and pressed against it. You could feel your lips bruising at the grip the hand had. Your eyes were as wide as dinner plates as you stared at your attacker.  
“Don’t make a fucking sound or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

The voice was gruff and clear, the meaning of its tone obvious. He wasn’t a member of the League of Shadows. He was one of Bane’s hired hands to do the dirty work of construction and information gathering of Gotham’s problem citizens. But that didn’t matter right now.

This man was going to rape you.

No way in fucking hell were you going to stand for that. Barsad didn’t have you trained in combat for nothing.

The man must have read the look in your eyes as fear instead of shock. He kept one hand on your mouth as he began stripping the layers that kept you warm on these winter nights off your cot. With his eyes busy on your body, he didn’t see the mounting fury in your eyes or the way your arms started to seize up. 

With his arms lowered and hands about to go for your breasts, your arm went up, quick as a gun draw, and went straight between the eyes. As Barsad taught you, you made use of your lower palm and aimed it right for the fleshy part of his nose. 

There was a short hiss of pain and the man shot daggers at you, but you didn’t notice. You were too busy readjusting your body in order to launch both feet into his gut, which was then done in rapid succession.  
Now with your attacker – honestly, you could have laughed later that you did most of the attacking, but if he didn’t initiate it, he’d be without his injuries – doubled over in pain, you balled up your fists, winded them up behind your back and smashed them into the back of his head.

Watching him drop to the floor, you ran for the door, grunting when you discovered the key missing. It must have went in the man’s pocket! You dared not search him, not when he was already getting up. What a large man! Not as big as Bane, but certainly dwarfing your own stature. 

Dashing to the nearby table where you kept your own copy, you doubled back and unlocked the door, adrenaline pumping through you when you heard the man roar in anger behind you. 

There was no time to close and lock the door behind you, to trap the man and show Bane what happened.

Bane!!!

You had to make it to him first. Surely he didn’t have preference over whom he listened to.

Once again Barsad’s training came in handy. Though the man was quickly gaining on your, you were able to close half the distance between the area where Bane commonly was seen leading the League before you were worried about getting caught.

That happened on a metal staircase. You had to go one step at a time to keep from tripping. The man, on the other hand, had long enough legs to go thrice that.

“You bitch!” he snarled, catching your ankle. 

You fell forward and hit the stairs hard, knocking the wind out of you. His hands went quickly up your legs to try and hold onto you, which meant his face was, again, open for blows.  
Landing three hard hits to his eyes and the bridge of his nose loosened his grip enough for you to get back up and keep running to your sanctuary, though your attacker wasn’t far behind.

The commotion you and the man kicked up led Barsad from his own sleeping quarters. A level up from the action, all he saw was you, barefoot in what you used for pajamas, being pursued by a grubby-looking man fully dressed and sporting what looked to be growing bruises.

It didn’t take long for him to deduce what was going on. He went back inside, grabbed his gun, and headed for the only area you knew to go for defense and safety.

To Bane.

“I’ve fucking got you now,” your attacker spat out when you rounded a corner to find Bane’s bunk empty. “Bane’s not here to protect you and no one else is either.”  
“I can fucking protect myself, but Bane’s not going to like it when you try to rape his underlings,” you spat back, putting your fists up.  
“Who gives a shit about you?”  
“I do.” Barsad, the smart man, had his gun trained on the other man. “So please be smart about this, Conrad, and stay very still.”  
“Barsad? What’re you doin’?” Conrad asked, completely perturbed that anyone was going to come between him and you.  
“Right now I’m ready to unload a clip into your body. However, Bane gets last call on that.”   
Barsad said your name quietly.  
“What?”  
“Get the transmitter out from my pocket and tell Bane to get back here as fast as he can manage. He’ll ask why. Tell him it’s a security issue among his men.”

Biting back any argument that Bane might not care if it was you calling him, you nodded and took Barsad’s transmitter.

It took only a few seconds for Bane to pick up. You gently held the device in both hands, not worrying about any sort of harm coming to you. Not with Barsad on your side.

“Hello Barsad? It’s quite early for you to be calling.”  
“It’s not Barsad,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “It’s me.”  
Bane paused for a few seconds before speaking again. “How did you get Barsad’s transmitter?”  
“He gave it to me. There’s… a security issue with the men. Barsad said you would know that means.”  
“Is he at hand?”  
“Well, I mean he’s right here, but he’s pointing a gun at a guy who broke into my room and tried to rape me,” you said bluntly, the realization coming to you that Bane might indeed be doling out physical punishment himself.

This realization hit Conrad at the same time, and he started yelling his side, which were lies.

“That’s bullshit! She hadn’t been out in three days, I was checking on her!”  
“So a security issue,” you continued, your voice a bit tighter in trying to rein in your anger at the abuse being launched at you by Conrad.  
“I shall be there within an hour. Have Barsad keep an eye on the both of you. I’ll have this settled,” Bane said with finality. 

Was there a darkness to his tone? His default always seemed to be jovial, but he seemed quite serious this time.

Poor Conrad. Well… not really.


	12. First Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

Barsad kept his gun up on Conrad, who was pacing back and forth along the platform next to the waterways of Gotham’s sewer system. Smoothly the gun moved back and forth. Your mentor was not taking any chances with you getting hurt or Conrad retaliating, to which you were grateful. Not many people stood up for you before this whole League of Shadows mess, so as odd as it was, you were not only grateful but flattered.

“Did you do that to him?” Barsad whispered to you.  
You glanced over to see welts and bruises taking form. That brought a smirk. “Sure did. Your training, my handiwork.”  
“Very nice.”

You had never been complimented on beating the shit out of someone before. Then again, you had never been in the situation where you had to resort to that. There were just new experiences all over the damn place!

 

Soon enough, heavy footsteps indicated that Bane had returned.

You tried to grab Bane’s attention as soon as he rounded the corner, but he had no interest in you. His focus was on the man in front of him. Though similar in height, if not in muscle, Conrad shrank in fear.

“Bane, sir, I promise you that I didn’t do nothing!” he began snapping as soon as the heavy figure of the masked man stopped short in front of him. The weak lighting and the early hour fatigue greatly increased the intimidation factor of Bane, which affected Conrad greatly. His next words came out stuttered. “Look at her. She’s fine. Nothing more than what Barsad puts her through.”  
“And where did your injuries come from?” Bane asked softly, ignoring you and favoring the company of Barsad. “Surely you were not brawling so late at night.”  
“Well, I came in to check on her. Haven’t seen her for a few days. She must’ve thought I was trying to do something funny so she started really beating on me. I was chasing after her because I was angry, but I wouldn’t hit her or nothing. Truth.”  
“You felt that four in the morning, when most people in my employ tend to be sleeping, was an appropriate time for this?”

You shivered at Bane’s tone, but couldn’t help but wonder where this was going? You thought he believed you over the walkie-talkie. Why was he giving Conrad a chance?

“Better late than never?”  
“Admirable of you.” 

Conrad began to relax, then recognized the sarcasm in Bane’s voice.

“Uh… Bane?”  
“You were so worried that you stole one of the two keys that opens our guest’s room, the other being in her possession. This must have been done while I was still in the sewers because I keep that key on my person when I leave.”  
“Umm…”  
“So instead of going straight to her room when you stole said key, which makes little sense as she would be awake enough to open the door to an inquiring knock, you waited until I was away from the compound to do your checking in.”  
“No, you’ve got it wrong…”  
“And when our guest was understandably frightened when she heard her door open at such an odd hour, you took it upon yourself to make sure she was so frightened that she had to resort to physical violence for her own sense of personal safety.”  
“Bane, it is awfully early. We should all be in bed,” Barsad whispered. “Just do what you are going to do.”  
“The truth will set you free, Conrad. So make a wise choice.”

Conrad looked between you, Barsad and Bane before falling to the ground on his knees. 

“All right, I had fucking urges. Don’t you understand? You’re both guys!”  
“I’m not an animal. I pride myself on having control of these so-called ‘base’ instincts. Do you think so low of your own gender that you cannot help but be drawn to rape?” Bane replied in a low voice, stooping over Conrad. 

His tone was dangerous, his body language double that.

“I do not take kindly to that sort of evil.”  
“But you’re evil, too,” Conrad said with his last shred of bravery. He stood, drawing himself to his full height, back straight, chest out. “You hypocrite. You’re going to blow up a city and kill millions of innocent people. You want to break open Blackgate, which is filled with rapists and killers, but you’re going to go on about how I’m evil for wanting to rape someone who’s helping to do all of this. We’re all fucking degenerates or whatever. Go ahead and kill me. But don’t go thinking you’re better than me.”

That struck a chord with you. The asshole had a point. Of course, that very logical, albeit assholish point with the admission that he did want to rape you and it didn’t matter because you were on the bad side (you were still a kidnap victim, not ready and willing or a League member) didn’t sit well with Bane.

In a swift five seconds, Conrad’s neck was broken. Bane released him to fall on the ground like a rag doll.

“Take care of that,” Bane said coolly to Barsad, fixing his coat like he didn’t just kill someone. He then walked over to you, giving you a quick once over.   
“I… uh,” you started, trying to find the right words. 

You wanted to say thank you, but Conrad’s words stuck with you. No matter what creed Bane spoke of, it was overshadowed by the truth of the dead man’s final rant.

“Don’t let Conrad’s words trouble you. Blackgate prisoners will be released only to show the world what scum fills Gotham’s streets and buildings. They are part of the corrupt, the ones we are trying to destroy.”  
“He had a point. The innocent.”  
“My dear, there is no such thing.”

You shuddered again and rubbed your arms. The chill of winter was starting to take its toll on you. Unlike the men surrounding you, there was no benefit of warm pajamas or uniforms. The best you had was a camp stove and thick wool blankets. You had to stand out in the open air of the bitterly cold sewers with little more than flannel pants and a loose t-shirt. 

That chill set in your bones and you found that you couldn’t look Bane in the eyes. 

“Then you might as well kill me now,” you whispered before you made your way back to your room to get back to sleep, if such a thing was possible.

You heard no footsteps follow you, but you did feel Bane’s eyes follow you down the stairs until you locked your heavy steel door behind you.

Sleep did not find you that night. Comfort failed to find you as well.

But what did settle inside you would be a terrible sickness, though its effects were not felt until a week later.


	13. Fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

After Bane made an example of Conrad, no one came to your room except for Barsad. You didn’t know the effect your last utterance had on your captor. 

_“Then you might as well kill me now.”_

Surely he found nothing troubling about it nor even a shred of worry to give. Where were you going to go? You couldn’t very well leave your underground prison. You were deep in darkness in your little concrete hole in the wall. 

Trapped, stuck, immobile, however you were going to characterize it, was your condition, surrounded by whirring hard drives, scrap parts and hollowed cases. Constantly you were monitoring the financial records of Gotham’s elite, looking for blackmail material, especially on Daggett, the bastard. 

Men outside your room were constantly shouted orders at and barked back complaints. It was too cold to work, many said, due to the temperatures of the water flowing in and out of the various tunnels of the Gotham sewers. 

Albeit it was early February, the winter weather did not seem to be letting up. You felt it constantly biting at your face during your view ventures to the outside world with Barsad at your side.  
The last one, which was only a handful of days after your encounter with Conrad, hit you harder than you realized. A nasty cough was developing that tumbled from annoying to worrying in a few short hours. You could best describe it as a burning, choking sensation in one of your lungs. Sheer exhaustion hit you, but you kept pushing through it to finish blueprint corrections for explosive triggers.

Your face felt warm while your legs felt cold. If it was just the flu or some other sort of sickness, you could easily just take an aspirin. Which you did for two days with no change in your condition. 

You weren’t ignorant in the ways of taking care of yourself. When you feared that your illness was something worse than what life had tossed your way prior, you thought of Bane. How would he tolerate your weakness? Surely he would kill you. You couldn’t be wasting his time being sick.

 

No one had come in your room in three days’ time, even Barsad. Bane, unbeknownst to you, had given strict orders to let you finish your device, so gun training and body-building would wait.  
However, the quiet man furrowed his brow whenever he passed your room. Normally you would have been complaining by now about your food rations or the cold. You were spirited around him, but were muted when the two of you last spoke. Dull in the eyes, even. 

Perhaps he should check on you. Bane said no training, but did not mention that he could not check in on you.

Doubling back, he knocked on the door and called your name, only to be answered with silence. He knew you were in there. Sleeping?  
He repeated himself and said your name louder.  
“Get your key and let me in!” he snapped at your continued silence. 

Then panic gripped him. You were cheeky, but not belligerent. You knew his anger limits and when to stop pushing. That dullness… what if it was something worse?

Jogging, not sprinting, to Bane – as he was still not so sure that you whether or not you were sick or well – with you in his mind, Barsad found his leader knotting a bit of rope.

“Barsad,” he greeted, not looking up.  
“Bane, I need the girl’s key. Now. It might be urgent.”  
“What is it? Has our little guest been ignoring you?”  
“Yes, I suppose, but I think it’s different. She is…” Barsad licked his lips and chose his words carefully. “She’s not answering at all. Not even to snap back at me or tell me to leave her alone. It’s been like this for three days. I’m worried that she is ill.”  
“Ill? Then let us see.” Bane stood with a small huff, juggling your key between his fingers. “Perhaps she has discovered the silent treatment that some women are so fond of.”

Barsad held his breath at that. That wasn’t quite your style. You were quite vocal about what was bothering you, though you cared more about your tone when it came to Bane. Silence from you was both a blessing and a curse. Something to be thankful for but concerned about.

When Bane unlocked your door, Barsad could not see what caused the large man to swiftly sprint forward. To illicit even a small gasp from him means that you… you were… on the floor, still as death.

“Barsad. Find Raj immediately.”

His tone was nondescript. You were not dead, then, thankfully, Barsad thought as he too sprinted down the corridors of the sewers to find the League’s resident physician. But what had happened? And why hadn’t he gone to Bane sooner? Stress and guilt beat him over the head in tandem at your condition. Was a League member supposed to feel those things? He wasn’t so sure.

So where was he? Where the fuck was he?!

 

Back in your room, Bane gently picked up your body and moved it to your cot. He had found you collapsed on the cold ground, like a marionette that had its strings cut. You were not lifeless, but perhaps it was close. 

Your sweat was cold, your breath rasping. 

“You are burning up. Can you feel the fire?” Bane asked quietly.

However, you could not hear him. To you he was a fever dream, worsening into a nightmare due to the lack of food and water in you. Bane was the monster you always feared him to be, but you could not hide from his hands or eyes. Those cold, dead fucking eyes boring into you, unnervingly clear in the haze of your limited vision. 

You had been on the floor for hours, hovering between varying states of consciousness, one of which you thought was death, for that particular feeling was one of comfort. 

Did you believe in the afterlife? No. You only had one shot on this planet. That comfort must have just been reassurance that your shitty life had run its course. 

Barsad’s voice rang out clear minutes after Bane had you on your cot. Once again voices faded in and out before a pill was shoved down your throat with some water and nothing else. You felt like vomiting for hours until the feeling passed.

Everyone left. Everyone but Bane. 

He would just not leave! In your mind you were trying to cry and push and run away from him. Yet he was always present, always watching. Surely he was waiting until you were well enough to appreciate a good neck snapping for wasting his time with whatever was wrong with you.

Soon your fever broke and you gained coherence of your surroundings and abilities. Your tormentor had left with little more than a thick blanket, a note and varying medications.

You had little memory of the past forty-eight hours. Although you would admit that you did not want to know the extent of it, Bane was your caretaker during that time, never leaving your side. 

And it was one of the more taxing moments of his life in recent memory.


	14. Fever Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

Raj, an oddly kind man – perhaps from indeed being a doctor – in the League followed swiftly behind Barsad with his large briefcase of medicine and other supplies. What had taken so long in Barsad’s mind was relatively short by another’s standard, as Raj was just using the facilities.

One look at you being propped up by Bane had him on his knees with a thermometer.

 

“When you did find her?”  
“Not more than ten minutes,” Bane answered.  
“Do you know how long she has been ill?”  
“Perhaps three days. Maybe four,” Barsad supplied.  
“What have you seen?” the doctor asked Bane.  
“Fever. High, it seems. Rasping cough, like death. Sweating. She is barely conscious.”

Bane was so soft in his dialogue that it took Raj aback. This was his boss, one whom he had seen break necks without a second thought. 

Were you his new Talia?

He banished the thought from his mind temporarily, to be brought up to Barsad at a later date.

“She has a temperature of 102 degrees.”  
“That high?” Barsad said steadily. 

You were close to dead. Why didn’t you tell anyone?!

“Yes. Combined with the coughing and chills, I fear she has pneumonia, an inflammation of the lungs, but I will not know for sure without an x-ray to examine if there is something on her lungs. But we do not have the luxury of keeping one down here. However, I think that is what we have here. I have a few tablets that will help for the time being, but I will need a few more things. Amoxicilin and clarithromycin. Barsad, please make arrangements.”

Raj handed Bane a large yellow pill before Barsad exited. 

“I don’t care how it happens, but she needs to swallow this and keep it down. The feeling of nausea is powerful, but she cannot vomit or she will die. She’s gone too long without proper medication and if she rejects this, it will be too late for anything more.”  
“She’ll die?” Bane repeated, clutching you to him subtly in his mind, but quite possessively in Raj’s.   
“This normally isn’t a problem, but she doesn’t have proper food to negate the nausea. Vinegar or the cultures found in yogurt would help, but they are not necessary if she is strong, and she must be to make it this long without medicine. Good luck, Bane. I will be checking in on her every eight hours. Keep her alive.”  
“Thank you, Raj.”

The doctor shuffled out of the room, leaving behind a small vial of those yellow pills with instructions regarding dosage. Already you were moaning and clutching at your stomach, but at least you were alive.  
And so began Bane’s short tenure as your caretaker.

 

He slept very little, shifting every hour to take your temperature or prepare your medications. Each small noise out of your mouth made him turn. He refrained from calling the doctor in between check-ups. Selfish, perhaps, but you were just so small and looked even smaller from the effects of the pneumonia. He wanted to be the only one who saw to your health.

What you told him, begged him, when you woke up to see him sitting near you caused him to furrow his brow.

“Don’t… don’t kill me, please. I’m not useless like this.”  
“Rest,” was all he said in response.

It was your demeanor that reminded him of little Talia in the Pit whenever she was ill. Sometimes he would have to do things he wasn’t proud of to get her medicine if she was running a fever. 

When it came time for Talia to escape, he was mauled by other inmates for his actions. The idiot prison doctor was the reason he wore the mask, to keep the pain away. Damaged nerve endings gave him consistent pain until Talia helped him. 

Bane didn’t fancy himself a nurse maid and did his utmost to follow Raj’s instructions while running the League at the same time.  
Men rarely came to your room for fear of Bane’s retaliation and avoidance of possibly catching whatever you had. 

Though you slept through most of the first forty-eight hours, that’s when you gave Bane the most trouble.  
While you were awake, or at least conscious, you were most compliant. You ate whatever Bane offered, even feeding you himself, and took medicine without a word. Bane even earned permission to give you a sponge bath. Doctor Raj, after all, agreed that a bath would rejuvenate when he brought up the idea.

Unlike most men he was sure, Bane found nothing sexual about it. Sensual, perhaps, was the word a lesser man might use. But he did feel something that caused his heart to skip a beat when you were near him, sighing gently as he massaged your sore limbs. He worked slow, cleaning your sticky body from the sweat you had accumulated. You lost weight in that week since he had last seen you. Why didn’t he visit you sooner? You must have feared him so much that you were stuck.

As he wiped your face, he caught your eyes, finally looking at him without a hint of fear. Tenderness? Is that what he saw? He pushed down the feeling that he quite liked that and continued on. 

He finished without incident and redressed you, but swore he wouldn’t be able to do it again. Not without you alert. Bane supposed he took a few liberties, taking your soft grunt at his inquiry toward bathing you as an affirmation. However, he was sure that you would have agreed that a bath was best. 

“Shall I read to you?” he inquired, picking up a tattered book near your cot.  
“Nngh,” you replied, rubbing your eyes.  
“A no, then.” Bane watched you close your eyes to sleep again while he indulged himself in _Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy._

 

You often talked in your sleep while Bane stayed with you, that night being no exception. Hours after he put his book down, you started fidgeting and moaning.  
“Daggett… no…”  
Bane near snapped his neck whipping around to stare at you. “Daggett?”  
“Get away…”  
He leaned in to you, shocked to see tears in your eyes.   
“Ruined her… rapist…”  
“Daggett? He raped whom?”  
“Sister… he raped my sister… son…”  
“Daggett’s son raped your sister? My dear, is that what you said?”  
“He’s evil… all of them.”

Bane’s whispers in trying to press you for more details after that failed, as he still wanted you to rest but was hungry for information. 

Using one of the many computers available, he was able to find archived internet articles about John Daggett III earning a guilty sentence of probation and community service for the rape of a woman who shared your last name. Your sister… the two of you looked alike. 

At first, Daggett the elder merely irritated him. He acted as though wealth gave him true power and control, and his ideology was confirmed here. Was his son guilty? Yes. Did he earn the punishment that other men, poorer men, men of color, received for the same crime? Of course not.

Her sister had moved from Gotham and appeared to live a quiet life. And yet you were still in Gotham. Interesting.

You had many secrets, it seemed, and he was eager to find them all out.


	15. Back to the Grind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

That was one of your roughest forty-eight hours in memory. You had been so tired that you let Bane take care of most of your basic needs. Hell, you had been so worn out that you consented to a sponge bath of all things. Putting all your eggs in one basket hoping that Bane had a gentle touch paid off much more than you would have bet.

Stretching your tired limbs, you stared at your medication and food supplements in order to keep them down. This would take a few weeks to recover from, easily. 

Instead of focusing on your next crafts, you feared that Bane would be irritated by your slow recovery. But surely that couldn’t be the case. If that was the case, he would have just killed you. Bane, the terrorist, took care of you for two days straight. Under his watchful eye, you were alive and well. As well as you could be.

You wouldn’t take that show of kindness for granted (not letting you die is a show of kindness for you, the hostage, after all). After you recovered fully, you would throw yourself back into work. Not as a show of gratitude, but rather owing to the fact that you were alive and you wanted that microscopic detail to be consistent.

Of all people, Barsad was the first to see to your health.  
“Have you been doing well?” he asked, setting down some tea for the two of you as he pulled up a case of guns to be cleaned.  
“Yeah, been doing a lot better since, you know, the pneumonia. I hope you haven’t caught what I had.”  
“I doubt it, the same for Bane.”  
“What’s up with him anyway?” you asked as you started wiping down the barrel of a Glock. “I thought he killed weak links?”  
Barsad faltered before continuing. “I think he thinks you’re much more valuable than just some dumb muscle.”  
“That’s oddly nice to hear. I’ll be sure to thank him for that when I have some free time.”  
“I doubt he’ll want to hear it. You’ve fallen behind in your work and need to catch up. So do so.”  
“All right… Mr. Bossy,” you huffed, biting the inside of your cheek.

Barsad was not far off, you conceded. The stock market heist was only four months out. Your job began and ended, tech-wise, with finishing your tablet. It had been so long since you could get a hand on it that you forgot just how far along you were with it.

It turns out you had merely taken out the motherboard and hardware of the tablet you were given. You hadn’t even gotten to the point of creating a system that could hack into the Gotham stock market and automatically and poorly invest Mr. Wayne’s money. At least you didn’t have to create the software for that as well. No, you merely had to make sure that the program was going to run smoothly.

Grabbing the nearby schematics, you hunkered down and slowly got back into the swing of things, still as a hostage, one that knew her life depended on getting things right the first go.

 

“How is our guest feeling? The woman?” Bane asked when Barsad arrived at his side.  
“Better. She’s back to work already.”  
“Good… good,” he replied distractedly, cleaning off his guns. “The timeline has moved up a month in interest of taking heat off the construction crew lining their cement with explosives. Tell her to have the device completed by the eighteenth of May and find blueprints for remote detonators. We will need dozens by the time September arrives.”  
“Yes, Bane.” Barsad turned to walk and did not make it more than six feet before his name was called again.  
“Barsad?”  
“Yes, Bane?”  
“During the kidnapping, I will be taking her, as you know. Make sure to go to a nice boutique and pick her something suitable to ride in. Your taste in clothing is better than mine.”  
“Sir?”  
Bane kept his gaze on his weaponry, but slowed his strokes. “A pantsuit would make it easy to sit on the back of my bike as the other hostages will. A skirt would have her on my lap. You see, if she were on the back of my bike, she would very easily be able to make a break for it. Understand?”  
“So a skirt then?”  
“Nothing too tight. I need her moving quickly toward the exit of the stock exchange.”

Walking away, Barsad laughed to himself. Like you would make it very far by yourself. Any attempt at escape would just make your life a living hell, so why even test you? He realized later, however, that Bane wanted you in a skirt for other reasons. It was a rather cheap ploy to get you near him. 

Barsad of course briefed you of this when you finished your project. By that time it was the very beginning of May. 

 

You felt the weather finish thawing out the especially rough winter that Gotham endured. It was, in fact, warm enough for you to wear a lovely ensemble that Barsad had picked out for you. Navy blue was your color, it seemed.

“According to Williams, most female stock brokers wear either pantsuits or skirts.” Barsad coughed and blushed. “I tried to find pants your size, but you are so small… I am not much with a needle. I had to get you a skirt.” 

In the store, Barsad wondered how much trouble he would get into if he disobeyed Bane’s orders. You were a hostage. Surely he had no interest in you in that way. Bane had never shown any sort of desire to be physically intimate with anyone, not even Talia when she was all grown.

Regardless, he was relieved when you didn’t seem to be bothered where you were perched for the escape from the stock exchange.

“So Bane’s just going to hope Batman comes out to draw away cop attention so I can be dropped off for you to come find me while Bane just… goes off wherever?”  
There was a beat.  
“Pretty much, yes.”  
“Whatever… by the way, your thing is complete.”  
“Thank you.” Barsad slipped the tablet and wireless antenna (hopefully the transfer would be complete during the takeover and they wouldn’t have to go mobile) into a small cushioned case. “Practice looking scared.”

With that, he left you alone to ponder your new fate as a hostage while being a hostage.


	16. Waiting It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't let me screen movie scripts. I will find fault with EVERYTHING (I really did like DKR, but plot holes there were aplenty).

“Okay, but what if people wonder who I am when they see me on the news, considering anyone with a phone can take a video of me?” you asked, tugging at your blouse/skirt ensemble. Barsad, who drew straws to drive you to the Gotham Stock Exchange, didn’t seem too worried about the details. On you chugged though. “And this fake employee ID badge, someone will know I don’t actually work there. When Bane tugs me out as he said he was going to do, someone’s going to know something is up.”  
“No one will care about you once Batman is back in action again,” he repeated, this line coming from Bane. 

He personally failed to believe it himself. There was something about you, perhaps your way with words, that made him doubt his boss’s plans. Then again, you were the only one brave (or foolish) enough to dare question Bane’s leadership, and indirectly Talia’s.

“This whole plan makes no sense either. We’re assuming that the stock exchange is going to take any sort of trade seriously during a terrorist situation,” you grumbled.  
“Fraud takes a very long, very exhausting process to come close to proving. Bruce Wayne is not well-liked by this city. His company is bleeding money because he doesn’t care anymore thanks to the Joker several years ago. People will gladly believe that he made the wrong choice of where to put his company’s capital.”  
“But what if-”  
“We are here.” 

Barsad pulled up near the curb three blocks away from the Stock Exchange and unlocked your door. In case any cameras were interested in how you got there, this would at least slow down any attempt to track you. Barsad himself had on sunglasses and a beanie. Combined with the beard, he looked de facto hipster. 

“No leaving the building to go to the police. It won't end well for you. If Bane needs you to take control of the tablet because his men can’t work it, he’ll pull you out of the crowd. Either way, you’ll be going with him.”  
“Okay, but won’t the Batman follow me with the tablet, and therefore Bane, if things need to go mobile?” you asked, carefully getting out of the vehicle so you didn’t flash anyone.  
“A fellow League member will worry about that. You’re just an insurance policy.”

Barsad didn’t mention that you probably weren’t needed at all. Bane just wanted you there for selfish reasons. As long as he stayed away from you sexually, God forbid, then Barsad would not have to interfere and remind his boss the reason they came to Gotham. The behemoth had no time for play things, especially not you.

But you did not realize this. You just thought the League was treating their hostages however they felt like. In this case, an insurance policy, as Barsad put it. Flipping a quarter into the hat of a nearby homeless man, you headed down to the marble building at the cross section of two of Gotham’s most congested streets.

 

At eight in the morning, you were surrounded by pedestrians, commuters, exercisers and people just generally trying to get from Point A to Point B. Your height came you a feeling of stealth as you moved between bodies, eventually making it into the building.

Bane would be dropping by around three in the afternoon, holding everyone inside until dusk. Gotham got dark rapidly, giving your kidnappers cover of night. Not that this crime time worked for anyone that met Batman, but you digressed.

You walked through the front door to meet several security guards, metal detectors, ID scanners and wands searching you for anything dangerous.

“Have a pleasant morning?” asked one trying to make conversation.  
“Well, I’ve had better,” you replied, scratching at your nose.  
“Hump day’s got to make you feel better,” he shrugged, handing you back your purse.  
“Tell me about it.” 

You moved quickly into the main area where bodies seemed stacked on top of bodies getting prepared for the nine a.m. bell. Murmurs scattered through the crowd while you looked for a place to lay low until the mid-afternoon. 

You never understood how the stock exchange worked. Stereotypes on TV told you that people ran around and screamed into phones about trading and stocks and profit margins. Everything seemed quiet. Men and women were dressed smart and kept pens in their ears. True professionals doing their day-to-day job.

In terms of keeping yourself entertained, you brought an additional tablet with you to watch movies, music videos and general news. Being in the hole kept you out of the pop culture loop, so you didn’t want to waste time puttering around on the floor. Maybe someone reported you missing by now, or at least informed the police about how you were only seen in your apartment once a week. If you were a late-night crime show, even you could have pieced together that you were involved in some serious underground shit.

This whole day turned around with that little thought. The Gotham police units may be single-minded on capturing Batman, but some of them did their job. You would be out of the sewers in no time! Your thought process was so simple that it made you cringe in the upcoming months out of naivety.

First, cameras would catch you on Bane’s bike riding out of the Exchange. Second, the police would question security and the man who made small talk with you would recognize you. Third, they would identify you thanks to the Daggett incident with your sister. This would reveal why you would be an asset to the League. Fourth, they would find out where you lived and maybe even arrest you when you were at home on that rare day you were let out of the sewers. You hadn’t killed anyone yet, so maybe you would get into some sort of safe house, sell out the League and bada-bing bada-boom, you would have your life back. Mr. Wayne would certainly thank you once it came to light that the Exchange drama was because of the League. Perhaps with a job!

A smile lighting your face that hadn’t been seen in at least a year, you marched straight to the nearest women’s restroom, kicked open a door and took a seat on the uncovered porcelain stool. Only six hours to kill before the big moment. Did restrooms and their hallways have cameras? To cover your tracks, you made a promise to stretch your legs every once in awhile.

“And now, we wait,” you hummed, kicking off your shoes. If you were being honest, you were kind of excited for tonight to arrive. Of course, this was before you spent most of that evening near glued to Bane’s lap.


	17. Hostage Crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

Only a few people tried to engage you in small talk while you waited for Bane and his crew to arrive at the Gotham Stock Exchange. You dressed the part and looked the part with your resting face always reading “please leave me alone and have a pleasant day”. At least, this is the reason you believed; it easily could have been because no one cared to talk to someone they didn’t know while they were on the clock. 

For the most part, you sat on the same toilet, save for when you wanted to talk a short walk or when you actually had to use it. It was such a stark difference to your new normal that you felt like you could have gotten used it to it, the professional world. There didn’t seem to be much difficulty to it. When you gazed down into the pit where stock brokers made their trades, many of them seemed to be on the phone, perhaps with people who knew what they were doing or knew some kind of inside secret. You could do that, too.

Unfortunately, you knew one insider’s secret that would cause Gotham to vacate, if only you were listened to and had the guts to say it. 

Of course, there was always the constant danger looming over your head that Bane would find out and we couldn’t have that, now could we? You rather liked all your bones unbroken, your blood inside you and your skin free from contusions. After all, it was a consistent color that you were fond of. Blues and purples simply wouldn’t work. Such a casual way to discuss possible abuse in your head frightened you. Surely you hadn’t gotten used to it after a relatively short time as a hostage? 

At least you hadn’t totally submitted to Bane and the League. The fact that you were still holding out hope of escape or even simply debating telling someone about your predicament spoke volumes.  
You seized up as two women walked into the bathroom, speaking casually as their high heels ticked on the slate floor.

“- going to the show next week?”  
“Hell yeah! It's a Friday night. Last time they came to town was a Tuesday, rude. _Some of us_ have work in the morning.”

OverUnder was coming to Gotham?! You started so fast that your laptop almost came clattering to the floor. Of course you had to be kidnapped when one of your favorite punk bands were touring, of fucking course, just your luck. You went to do some research and found them headlining a small show at BB’s Bar. That wasn’t too far from the sewers. At once you thought of logistics of sneaking out, just for a few hours! Bane surely wouldn’t notice if you were gone. As petite as you were, sneaking by the other men wouldn’t be too difficult a task. The Conrad incident did guarantee the other League members paying you no heed, save for Barsad. 

Even not concerning getting caught going out, if Gotham was due for its destruction, obviously this show was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you would have much to do that day, considering it was laundry day at your apartment complex with not much else left in your itinerary. Barsad’s training sessions had lessened as of late after your illness and due to projects piled up in preparation for when you would exit the bathroom later that afternoon. After the stock exchange today, you had a blank slate as far as you were concerned. And you deserved this break, hostage situation be damned. If you were going to go out, it might as well have been after a high.

You would have to buy a ticket there. Cash was no problem; you always had some on hand for your own medicinal supplies like birth control and spare unmentionables Barsad had no interest in purchasing on your behalf. 

A genuine grin appeared on your features again. A little punk rebellion would do your soul well.

 

You spent the rest of the remaining time for the takeover catching up on the new album released by OverUnder. It wasn’t as good as the previous two, but a breath of fresh air compared to what you usually listened to – barked orders, rushing water, whirring computers and the crunching of concrete. 

Your stomach was in knots when you packed away your equipment, put on your shoes and stood. Kidnapped by one of the most-wanted terrorists in the world while simultaneously being a hostage during what you assumed would be a short motorbike ride on top returning to being a hostage when it was over (or, at least, you hoped that Batman would be able to impede Bane’s progress enough where you would be dumped off his lap, collected by the police and have your living nightmare put to bed) was enough of a load to mentally bear, but bear it you did. What other choice did you have?

 

So there you found yourself, on the ground floor of the Gotham Stock Exchange, standing stone still as other people bustled past you. Short machine gun fire signaled you that the takeover had started. Already a handful of people were shot, some merely wounded, others dead. You acted as if you wanted to see what was going on, in order to at least be in Bane’s eyesight. You crouched with the others, Bane almost casually strolling in while holding his bike helmet. Another simple day for him. At least you didn’t need to act scared. A stray bullet from the guns of men you knew could easily pierce you. What would Bane do then? Leave you to die? Perhaps.

“This is a stock exchange?” one oddly brave men said, voice wavering. “There’s no money you can steal.”  
“Oh really?” Bane drawled. “Then why are you here?”

 _Because a company’s value isn’t entirely in liquid assets, it's not a profound statement_ , you thought to yourself, though acknowledging that you were sure that not even experts were sure how the economy worked. A wince came as Bane threw the man, an employee, against a desk, knocked him out with a quick stroke and used his ID badge to log into the stock exchange’s system. Another one of Bane’s men, Francis, started entering the correct code to ensure that Bruce Wayne would go bankrupt. At least he wasn’t so incapable that Bane would bring you out of the crowd to do Francis’s job for him. 

The scene was so surreal to you that you couldn’t quite believe that this was a real step in a real plan to blow up Gotham. Destroy the credibility of Bruce Wayne. During a goddamn hostage crisis. Why would anyone think something _not_ fishy was going down? 

“Idiots,” you muttered under your breath.  
A woman next to you turned and studied you. “Shh?!” she hissed like it was the most obvious thing in the world to do. “They’ll hear you!” 

You gave her an apologetic shrug and kept your eyes on Bane, who by now had spotted you. He didn’t hear your crack, but his unwavering stare certainly made it seem that way and the woman who had shushed you quietly slinked away from Bane’s field of vision. Your own gaze made very direct signals to turn focus away from you, lest someone make a mental connection of why this terrorist was looking at you so intently.  
Bane didn’t give a signal that he understood you and merely started pacing around the floor while his men worked. Someone’s phone was out, as none of the League members seemed to care about what their hostages did while fearing for their lives. You craned your neck to see the time, which was close to sundown. The takeover was so swift that hours had passed from start to near finish. 

“They cut the fiber,” you heard Francis say to Bane.  
Your device would still be functioning, Bane made doubly sure of that, that the Gotham Police Department’s efforts to slow his takeover would be dismal at best. But it would be slowed.  
By eight minutes.  
“Time to go mobile,” Bane muttered, heading toward you. 

In a moment of human cowardice, no one stepped between the masked man and you to save you from this fate, in their minds, as an innocent woman captured by fiends. You turned in your own dramatics by wincing as Bane grasped your upper arm and hauled you up, flush against him.  
“You, too,” he said coolly. 

Perhaps it was naïve of you to think that anyone would try to stop Bane from making off with you, but those machine guns in the hands of the League members surrounding you did provide powerful persuasion otherwise. It’s not like the other two people taken, two young men, had anyone fighting for their honor. 

Out you headed, Bane only taking a moment to yank his bike helmet from the grasp of another stock exchange employee.  
“Thank you.” 

A couple dozen employees were led out in front of you, past three motorbike sitting just in front of the metal detectors that you passed through on your way in earlier that day. As Bane climbed on and tugged you onto his lap, you looked up at him. 

“How did you get three bikes in here?” you breathed. He had the audacity to wink at you before putting his helmet on. “We’ll talk.” 

Francis and his hostage were put on a bike along with one other League member, Sergei, and his own hostage, a man already blubbering. Perhaps you should be blubbering too. Would it be more convincing that you knew no harm would come to you? At least, any that you hoped. Tucking and rolling in a skirt was a sure way to bleeding knees. 

Engines fired up before the doors were opened to a waiting, brisk dusk. 

“Hostages coming out!” you heard what was sure to be SWAT or police outside. 

Hands over their heads, they slowly filed out as Bane’s arms locked you into place. You hugged your laptop bag close to your chest and gripped Bane’s jacket. 

“Don’t do anything too reckless, Bane.” 

Through the mask, the helmet and the bike’s noise, Bane didn’t attempt to speak to comfort you. It could have been an accident, but you felt his helmet press against the top of your head for a second. You took it as a sign of advice and his voice sounded clear in your head. 

_Hold on tight, my dear._


	18. Chase Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

Your first time as a participant in a chase started off bumpy, literally, as Bane sailed down the steps of the Exchange. The police were shouting something, but it all sounded like nonsense to you. There could have been anywhere from one to one hundred police cruisers separating you from the sewers and you wouldn’t have known because it was very difficult to gauge anything from your face buried in your elbow. The speeds on the bike with so little protection did you no favors and the biting wind from dusk, even during a rather pleasant time of the year, seemed to cut into your eyes and teeth. 

The noises of the chase were likewise. A yelp behind you signaled one hostage was dumped while some screaming signaled that one was still on the back of a bike. You let out some screams of your own when Bane used the street blockers as ramps to shoot past officers and onto the highway. There was no heads-up from Barsad of that! Words would definitely be had. The bikes sped down the streets of Gotham, paying no heed to honking horns of distressed motorists as red lights were ignored. At least Bane knew what he was doing and an accident wasn’t in your future.

 

The chase seemed to go on for hours and eventually, unlike the man next to you, there was nothing to truly be screaming about, at least in your view, even taking into account his perch on the bike wasn’t quite as stable as yours. The device only had a couple more minutes to finish its job. Soon you’d be back in your hole in the wall, hopefully being able to sleep after the adrenaline wore off. No guesses as to when that would lose effect.

News of the chase seemed to reach the people of Gotham, as there was very little traffic in front of you and therefore no diversions or risky shortcuts to take to escape police. In fact, there seemed to be little police involvement whatsoever. Where were they?! You could stand to be rescued!

After taking a look at the device’s countdown from the hand of the other League member, Bane made a sharp 180 turn and sped down the open street, right past the Batman. And, right on cue, about a dozen police cruisers appeared on the horizon. Bane paid them no heed and kept on his path. Not a single cop car turned around, blocked Bane’s path or even slowed down.

So that’s where your rescue force was! Chasing Bruce! Absolute bastards! 

Bane only stopped for a few seconds to survey these new developments before taking a quiet path away from the ensuing pandemonium. Soon Gotham would pay him heed. Tonight? Not so important.

 

There wasn’t a soul on the streets when Bane pulled over near the outflows of the Gotham sewer system and the beach. Taking off his helmet, he stowed it on the small seat behind him while you slid off his lap. You wobbled a bit as you got your land legs back, making Bane smirk underneath his mask. You had done so well in your first real mission out of the sewers and your device worked flawlessly. He was about to speak and congratulate you on your success and how Bruce Wayne has begun his reckoning before you bent over and vomited. Perhaps later.

He dismounted from the bike and paused before rubbing your back in small circles.

“Oh God,” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Barsad… I’ll kill him.”  
“Why?” he asked. You straightened and got a good look at him. The street Bane chose to stop at was poorly lit, but it was impossible to miss the amusement in your boss’s eyes at your tone. “Did you not like his ensemble?” Bane’s fingers skimmed the lapel of your blazer. “Perhaps it was boring waiting for us to arrive at the Exchange?”  
“Oh, don’t be so cute,” you muttered, forgetting yourself as you ranted. “I’m so, God… angry!” 

Bane was privy to Barsad’s discussions concerning you. One thing he tend to bring up was that you loved a good rant. Such a mission meant you lost your inhibitions and weren’t particularly mindful about who was getting an earful. Bane was in the mood for being amused after getting off, arguably, scot-free from his takeover. So he let you continue.

“Okay, first of all, if I’m in a bathroom stall again, it’ll be too soon. I’ll take a hundred goddamn chamber pots in my room over being stuck in there again. Second of all, I didn’t get any word I’d be shooting over ramps during that escape. Third of all, this whole plan didn’t make any goddamn sense except luring Wayne out of his hidey-hole. Fourth, no one gave a solitary shit about me! Bane, did you see all those cars drive right by us? People are dead because of us and yet old Batsy is top-priority! And now, I threw up! This day sucked.”  
“On the contrary, this day was a rousing victory, thanks in part to you. The mobility aspect of the tablet did its job as expected.”  
“Still…” You turned around to gaze out at the lapping waves hitting the shore. The moon wasn’t even out and despite Bane right behind you, you felt quite alone. “No one cared that I was taken. I could be dead in a ditch somewhere and it’s about the Batman. Not everyone is blessed with the proof that you don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

There was a nine-month pregnant pause before Bane spoke.

“You matter.”

It was said so softly that you caught yourself about to ask Bane to repeat himself. But you had to respond with something. You had been so candid before your moment of reflection. Was it best to continue on that way?

“I matter to you the way… the way a tool matters to a carpenter. Vital, but replaceable.”  
“Don’t think so little of yourself. You would do great work if you weren’t still my hostage. If you were a true League member, you would be unstoppable, body, mind and soul.”  
“Not quite on my bucket list, being a fully-fledged terrorist. It’s bad enough I’m one by proxy, isn’t it? There are enough terrible people in Gotham that are doing horrid deeds out of their own free will. Rape, murder, bribery, paying off judges, ruining reputat-”

You shut up before any more of your own woes of your borough got out. Bane had not earned the right to hear of the trials and tribulations of your sister, a flagrant display of corruption by the wealthy of Gotham, of the Daggett clan, that you were still quite sore over. That would be carried until you were six feet under. 

You personally knew Daggett Sr. was one of the people financing Bane’s missions to oust Wayne from his company so control would be shifted to him and with it capital and power. And it burned you so to know that Bane was simply accepting the money per directions of Talia. For a group bent on the destruction of the corrupt, of the Sodom and Gomorrah 2.0., they certainly had no qualms about using that same root of all evil to further their goals. That was what Daggett wanted out of this mission, the two such polar opposites yet exactly the same. Oh… What you wouldn’t give to see Daggett shot right in front of you. Just for a short-term gain of retribution. And Bane and Talia for that matter, by Batman, and you would finally be able to escape a living horror of being a puppet for a sociopath. And you didn’t necessarily mean Bane.

 

Bane kept the quiet between you until Barsad appeared at the foot of the stone steps that led a path back to the sewer entrance. 

“You are late,” Bane began, adjusting his coat lapels. “Did you have trouble locating us?”  
“Oh, it’s about time!” you snarled, marching up to Barsad. Your height did you no favors for seeming threatening, but you did notice and find absolutely delicious that he took a step back. “I am going to read you the riot act for what I went through tonight, right after I sleep and get the energy to do it. Bane, I’ll see you later.” You marched down the steps, grumbling to yourself while Barsad made his way to his boss.

“Did the plan go poorly? The news is saying otherwise.”  
“No, no, it went splendid. The minx was with me throughout the escapade and her electrical inclinations proved worthwhile.” Bane smirked. “All is well.”  
“But…”  
“Brief her more thoroughly went it comes to future extractions. It wasn’t exactly a smooth ride.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“I will be meeting with our men at the crucial points to see how other operations are being kept up. I’ll be back at headquarters in a few hours. Please keep our guest calm.”  
“Easier said than done. Good luck, Bane.”  
“Good luck, Barsad.”

Your face appeared at the edge of the drop-off onto the beach, scrunched in irritation. “Come on, let’s get your rear in gear, Barsad.”

Bane watched his second-in-command head down to you. The conversation that you started with him slowly became quieter as the distance grew between him and the pair of you. He listened in before taking off into the night.  
“You know, danger sure makes you mouthy,” Barsad noted, taking careful steps down the stone stairs to the beach. “We should keep you in safe situations only.”  
“Yeah well, you start to give less shits when you see death staring you right in the eye. By the way, semi-automatics randomly fired into the crowd could actually wind up hitting me. Just FYI.”  
“I was not there to tell them otherwise.”  
“Then you have true shit-for-brains in this organization. Maybe you should do an audit.”  
“As if we have the time…”

 

Satisfied knowing that the two of you would be unharmed in heading back to the sewers via the outflows, Bane revved his bike and headed to the construction sites of Gotham’s largest manufacturers. Bridge and roadwork were constantly being done in the city, enough to where there was little worry that explosive-laden concrete would be lacking. Even the football stadium would need maintenance done upon it. That portion of the plan, however, wouldn’t come to fruition for a few more months. First off, Bruce would have to be lured into the sewers by that cat woman, the burglar, Selina Kyle. Break the bat, body and spirit, then take the city down with him.

He actually let out a small chuckle in thinking what kind of attitude you would cop when it came to your final days in the city. That would put you out much more than a simple motorbike chase.  
It wasn’t very long into his ride when he realized he missed having your petite rear on his lap. Surely there would be a way to get you on it again. After all, if Talia was planning to have fun with Bruce to “twist the knife”, surely it wouldn’t hinder her plan if he had some fun as well.


	19. Night at the Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

You woke up from a recurring nightmare, seeing Bane kill two of his men right in front of you for improperly capturing Commissioner Gordon and bringing him down to the sewers. Now, according to Bane, every cop in Gotham would be looking for him and said Commissioner knows exactly where the League was hiding. Though he looked unconscious, it didn’t stop your feeling that he had your face memorized. 

This bungled kidnapping also tipped you off to where your tracking device went: right into the pocket of one of the gunned mooks, to possibly follow Gordon’s body, one that took a few bullets itself, to any of the outflows.

The returning League members had showed up without a body, of either the mook or Gordon. Certainly you felt lucky that Bane’s wrath of losing one a valuable hostage as well as the sole man who knew where his hideout was and who had the power to stop him didn’t fall on you. Instead, he continued his plans for the Stock Exchange heist, aided by gaining the one component of his plans that he was missing. Thanks to Selina Kyle and one of Daggett’s men, Bruce Wayne’s fingerprints were secure to legitimize his stock gamble. It took a few weeks for those two plan points to connect. When they did, the papers the very next day remarked on the folly of Bruce Wayne and how he lost all his money.

 

Of course, you still can’t believe that plan worked. Getting out of your cot, you dressed yourself and marched to Barsad, in the mood to give him that fight that had been marinating inside you since you arrived in the sewers again.

But he spoke first.

“Gordon is alive. He has made the police officer who got to him first a detective. We know have someone on our tail.”  
“Oh? Who is that?”  
“A man named John Blake.”  
“Never heard of him.”  
“Oh? He is… close to your age.”  
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, him and about a few hundred thousand other men and women in Gotham alone, what’s your point?”  
“Maybe you recognized the name from school days?”  
“Fat chance.”  
“If you’re still upset about the Stock Exchange, then I should tell you not to bear a grudge against me.”  
“Pssh,” was your reply with a small raspberry.  
“Anyway,” he coughed, “today is laundry day, so we should hurry to your apartment.”

Today was also the day of your show, OverUnder. It was about ten blocks from where you lived, pre-League of Shadows days. Admission was around $30, which you had to get from the ATM on the way. An entire mile separated you and that sweet short-term joy.

“FYI, I need birth control money again,” you said. Which was a fair lie. Barsad didn’t know you got a triple supply during the last laundry day simply by telling the pharmacist that you would be out of the country. And what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.  
“Then we’ll stop by the bank,” he shrugged, as disinterested in your reproductive health as you had predicted. 

This was a huge risk for a relatively piddly ass reward of seeing your favorite band live. But who knew when you would have this opportunity again? You silently accepted whatever punishment would be headed your way when the ATM spit out $30. Bring it.

 

When the clock hit eight in the evening, it was now or never. Barsad was lounging on your couch with a book in hand. You had excused yourself to your room and changed clothes, stuffing whatever you needed to get into the venue in your pockets. Money, ID. You didn’t have a phone anymore and Bane took your credit cards. 

It didn’t take Barsad long to notice that your shoes were on.

“I’m hungry, damn it,” you huffed.  
“There’s food here,” he huffed back.  
“If you can call canned soup food.”  
“I do.”  
“Whatever. Look, I’ll be back in ten minutes. I’m getting a bagel.”  
“Don’t you dare leave.”

Barsad’s tone went cold. You never attempted to leave your apartment during this particular day. That wasn’t the shirt you wore here. Those weren’t the shoes either. And your poker face didn’t extend to your eyes. As soon as Barsad made the slightest move to sit up, you bolted out the door and locked it behind you.

“Damn it!” you heard from the other side of your door.

Your heart beating in your ears, you practically flew down the steps to the ground level door, bypassing the elevator. Barsad wouldn’t be more than two minutes behind you if he bothered to grab a pair of shoes. Knowing he was better trained, had longer legs and was overall physically dominant over you, you couldn’t stop for crosswalk lights, survey takers or flash mobs. 

BB’s Bar was within eyesight after eight minutes of booking it as quickly as your tiny legs could carry you. Pausing to catch your breath, you turned and practically jumped out of your skin. Barsad was hot on your trail and turned a shade of red to match his hair when he found your face.

You squealed in fear before dodging inside the bar. 

“You got a ticket?” the bouncer at the table asked.  
“No.”  
“That’ll be $25. You drinking?”  
“Sure.”  
“ID?”

Oh, so an extra $5 in your pocket! You might get that bagel after all.

So you were safe for now. You hid behind a trio of burly men to hear a very aggravated Barsad be told that unless he had enough for the cover charge, the only thing he’d be seeing was the door. Your co-kidnapper spat out a ‘fine’ and marched off. So either he was getting to an ATM or he would be waiting outside for you. 

“If he starts a scene, that’s good for me. If he waits outside, I’ll go out the side entrance,” you hummed to yourself, moving to get closer to the stage. This night could be your last, so you were going to take your time and stretch it out.


	20. So Totally Worth It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't exactly like living in Gotham. It wasn't a great place to live. Dangerous, expensive, ruled by corrupt politicians, rich people ruining everyone's day, and just unpleasant. The only upside was Batman and he hadn't shown his face in the city for five years now.
> 
> Despite yearly plots to ruin Gotham, you were able to make a healthy living as a white hat hacker, enough to keep you living where the money was. Like a bounty hunter, you saw requests to fix security holes in websites and you did that. On the side, you built computers and made a brick doing that. In your spare time, you built your own devices. So... I guess you could say you were a tech geek, and really good at what you did.
> 
> Too good. Your talents caught the attentions of the League of Shadows. And when Bane wanted someone on his side, you didn't have the power to say no.

You had forgotten just how satisfying a thumping garage rock gig could be. Bodies bumping into you, sweat from the singer spraying the crowd, floor sticky from beer. Disgusting, sure, but so different from your day in day out of the sewers that you couldn’t help but love it. 

You got to sing along to underground hits you hadn’t heard in ages. There were young kids there who probably just earned their 21 and over age who were absolutely losing it. Other men were lined up against the walls, beer bottle in head and nodding along to the beat. 

It was a classic mix of individuals from Gotham. And for you, it was just nice to feel human. The life that you were living which seemed ages past.

After two encores, OverUnder said their good-byes and ran backstage. With not enough money in your pockets to drink the night away, you slipped into the basement of the venue while keeping an eye out for Barsad. Your stomach twisted in knots at the implications of your actions and you tried your best to keep the bravado you had not so long ago, but that was fading fast. 

Barsad could very well kill you.

Bane could very well kill you.

It’s not like you had the guts to go stop at the Gotham Police Department and tell them of your plight. They either wouldn’t believe you or completely fuck up witness protection. It wasn’t something you were willing to bet your life on.

Swallowing, you took a slow walk back to your apartment, passing swaths of people on your way. Unlike the clubs and the sewers, this night air was clean. It was crisp and you wanted to wrap yourself up in it because this might be the last time that you would be let out of Barsad’s gaze or even the sewers themselves until the plan that the League was cooking up began in earnest.

You didn’t run into any League member on the way back to your apartment, but a neighbor did have the courtesy to tell you on the way up the stairs that your red-haired friend was waiting for you inside your apartment.

It was still worth it, your little act of rebellion.

But the recompense was about to start.

“It was worth it, it was worth it,” you whispered to yourself as you unlocked your door and slipped inside. 

Not much sooner after you closed and relocked it did you hear, “did you have a nice time?”  
“Barsad, before you start shouting, I needed that.”  
“You are a hostage,” he hissed, making quick strides over to you. You had nowhere to go and accepted his tight grip on your upper arms. “What the fuck was that?!”  
“I earned that!” you snapped, finding your moxie again and staring him right back in the eyes. “Let go, that hurts!”  
“Hostages don’t get rewards!” he almost shouted, then remembered folks might be listening in. He settled for firmly shaking you. 

If you were a man, you would be halfway into the floor, but Barsad just couldn’t bring himself to smack you around.

“Damn it, I’m sorry, but I came back, didn’t I?!”   
You thought you clinched a small victory with that until Barsad went on.  
“After going to the police and leaking what the League has been up to, didn’t you?!”  
“No! Why would I do that? Like anyone on the GPD would actually help me, as that little Stock Exchange experiment proved!” You growled and kicked at Barsad, whose grip didn’t let up. “Our little secret is safe. Just you and I know that I snuck out for two hours of a good time.”  
“And why shouldn’t I tell Bane of what transpired?”

His grip loosened then. Unlike his boss, Barsad didn’t stay angry for long. Which was a relief to you.

But you did blank at his question. Why shouldn’t Bane know about you sneaking off?

“Can’t a young woman who almost died of pneumonia get one chance to see her favorite band before she dies of another, mightier strain?”  
“No.”  
“Well, damn. Honestly, I know I’m going to die thanks to the bomb and I wanted one final hurrah before the city is blocked off. How’s that?”

Barsad… and Barsad couldn’t argue with that, especially not with that look in your eye.

“Fine… Bane doesn’t have to know. But one more toe out of line and I’m not stopping him from breaking your neck.  
Your smile about cracked your face in half as you skipped into your apartment. “Promise, no more funny business. Only terrorism business.”  
Barsad collapsed on your couch and let out a rugged groan. “I about had an aneurism, you know. You and your damned antics.”

You must have been a better actor than you thought. Out of nowhere did you pull that ‘one last hurrah’ bullshit and it seemed that Barsad had taken the bait. Truth be told, you kind of just wanted to piss Barsad off. By golly did it work.

Never again, though.

 

You and your kidnapper headed back to the sewers, full bags of laundry slung over broad shoulders and broadening shoulders. 

Nothing had changed in the night the two of you were gone. After all, the sewers were almost complete for the trapping of the entire Gotham police force. It was a three-month wait for the next two-part phase, the capture of the Batman followed by the collapsing of the stadium and destruction of the bridges going in and out of the borough. Gotham would essentially be a sitting duck, a war zone and an anarchist state all at the same time – and without the protection of Bruce Wayne, who would be watching the implosion of his beloved city countries away in a hole in the ground, literally.

The timeframe you had kept shrinking with every day and your little jaunt, though stress reducing, cost you big. You had your own two-part escape plan that needed to get moving and the more time spent in your own hole, the better.

“Long night?” greeted one League member to Barsad, who grunted in agreement. You replied in kind and walked dutifully behind Barsad. You fought a sly grin from appearing on your face as Bane’s massive body came into view stories above your head, overseeing the various construction of his sewers. A smaller, more slender body was at his side.

It may have been a lie to get the prints from Bruce Wayne for the elaborate Stock Exchange heist, but you know a true Blank Slate would be your ticket out. The woman was still interested. You had all the tech you needed in your room and you were sure you could convince a League member to get you necessary raw code to fine tune a virus that could wipe a person off the face of the digital world.

All you needed was three months and Selina Kyle.


End file.
